


City of Queens

by caramelaire



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Deception, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelaire/pseuds/caramelaire
Summary: In Kingsland city, there were only kings. So she shot them in the leg, made them kneel.Now, they have a queen.A mob/crime AU where Byul is the heiress of one of the city's Kings and Hyejin is an assassin seeking revenge against her family's murderers—the Moons. Will they fall in love or will they fall in deceit? All's fair in love and war.
Relationships: Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul, Jung Wheein/Kim Yongsun | Solar
Comments: 18
Kudos: 52





	1. City of Kings

_November 2007_

_“We are all gathered here today to celebrate the life of the Ahn family, they who have now returned to the heavenly home with….”_

The blood-red roses seemed destined to be placed on those black caskets, looking as if they grew right on top of the glossy surface, roots stretching onto the corpses within and wrapping like veins around their cold flesh, sipping whatever life was left in them. 

Moon Byulyi in her young age, merely fifteen years old and dressed in her black lace dress, couldn’t understand why the vibrant color was present in a funeral at all. It was out of place amongst the dull colors of black and white surrounding it, and she had spent a good hour of the ceremony staring at the roses as if it would suddenly speak to her. 

This wasn’t the first funeral she had ever attended, so she knew when something was terribly out of place. She had little knowledge of her father’s business—after all, she was still in-training to inherit the whole empire—but she knew that it involved a lot of funerals. Most of it, Byulyi knew, was by the own hand of her father or his men. 

So well-acquainted was she with funerals that she already knew the ceremony by heart, already familiar with most of the attendees, and could effortlessly pick out who the important people were—knowing that none of them was more important than her father. 

Moon Jin-ho had everyone bowing their heads when he walked past them, had everyone’s tongue-tied when he spoke. He was a feared man, and no one dared disrespect him and his family. 

Byul-yi was not born into royalty, not inside a castle in a faraway land, nor near a forest or an ocean. Instead, she was born in the Eastside of the city and was raised and treated no less than if she were royalty—a princess in her own right. She had not known birthday parties, fairytale stories or pink, pretty dresses; instead, she had her father’s business meetings and his lectures about how the world was not a place for little girls with silly dreams. She had learned to fill her closet with black dresses and suits and waited for the next funeral that would inevitably come. 

They were not the good people in those children’s books that Byul-yi never got to read. The Moons were worse than the combination of all the monsters in those stories. 

Kingsland was what their city was called, or City of Kings for those who knew what went on behind the curtains. There were only three other people who matched her father’s power in the city. Two of them were in a black casket right now; one was right in front of her, dead by her father’s own hand and the other one, she would be facing much later that afternoon in another funeral ceremony. By the triumphant smiles given to her by her father’s men, Byul-yi supposed she should feel proud by that.

She wasn’t.

All she could think about was how ridiculous those blood-red roses looked above that casket, and how its hue exactly matched the red dress of the little girl sitting at the front seat. It was an odd attire for a funeral, especially that of your own family. 

There was a small ache in her heart at the sight. The little girl was Ahn Hyejin, the last living member of the powerful family after they were massacred at the hands of the Moons. Why she was alive, Byul-yi didn’t know; her father usually never left any survivors. 

But there she was, wearing her blood-red Sunday dress, mourning for the death of her family. Yet she did not sob, did not scream. Her black hair braided and neatly framed her face making it easier for Byul-yi to see the strength in her features; how she looked straight ahead, never wavering, her lips pressed together—the defiance, the repressed anger. 

The tears streaming down her face were the only signs of her sorrow. Hyejin would not let them see her weakness, even if she had every right to.

She was a strong and beautiful girl to stand so bravely amidst her family’s murderers. For that, Byul-yi simultaneously felt admiration and sympathy. She wanted to walk over to the girl and personally give her condolences, but that wasn’t allowed in these kinds of funerals. No contact was to be made between the families. It was an old tradition.

_"Let us go in peace to live out the Word of God."_

Hyejin had suddenly risen from her seat. She was the only one in blood red, and even if Byul-yi thought the color ghastly for a funeral, oddly it made the little girl’s presence so much stronger in the room. 

Beside Byul-yi, her father had also risen from his seat. The ceremony for the funeral was done and it was time for the turnover. 

A King could only be taken down by another King in order to have claim over his empire; that was the rule of their world, something that her father repeated to her every night like a mantra. 

The Ahns owned the Southside of the City, the South King was what the Ahn patriarch was called. His only surviving heir, Hyejin, would now decide whether to pass over the crown to the victor—with it all their family’s assets, men, businesses, properties—or to declare war. 

The priest, paid for his service and silence, took the crown from the lifeless head of Hyejin’s father and handed it over to the girl. The crown was present for tradition’s sake. Each ruling family had an emblem etched Onto their own crowns, as a symbol of their superior status. The Ahns’ was a rose; its petals carved into ruby and wedged onto the silver crown’s front. 

Byul-yi watched as the little girl fidgeted with the crown, unsure of what to do. Such a big decision for such a small girl.

Byul-yi knew how that felt. Being the only heir to her father’s empire, Moon Jin-ho had already prepared her for every scenario, so that if it ever came to happen to their family, Byul-yi would know what to do. Yet little Hyejin seemed lost, her mask withering with every daunting step Moon Jin-ho took towards her. 

Her father was a powerful force in whatever room he stepped into as if he demanded to be seen. He stared down at the little girl, his face nonchalant and emotionless as he waited.

There were a few minutes of intense silence. The fate of the Southside of the city rests upon the hands of a small girl, perhaps even two years younger than Byul-yi. A standstill between the men of the East and the men of the South, still wounded from the loss of their King. 

One step forward, one lone tear and a silent trembling gasp that Byul-yi thought only she heard and Ahn Hyejin outstretched her hands and surrendered the crown to her father. 

“The South is ours!” Moon Jin-ho exclaimed, raising the crown tightly grasped into his fist.

It broke the silence like glass. The Eastside cheered as Moon Jin-ho took over the crown.

On the other side, the men of the South bowed their heads, preparing for the new reign they would be put under. And amidst the chaos, no one paid attention to the crestfallen girl in her blood-red dress finally breaking into uncontrollable sobs as a woman, probably in her late forties and with a strong face, ushered the small girl away.

A few other men in their black suits broke away from the commotion, guarding the little girl as they sneaked her away towards safety. 

Byul-yi didn’t know what came over her. Just that after observing the girl for the duration of the funeral, it felt like she owed Hyejin something. It felt as if this was her last chance before the girl would disappear from the face of the earth. She didn’t care to congratulate her father, not truly understanding yet what this victory meant for their family. All she knew was that she wanted to talk to Hyejin. Immediately she stood up, her feet leading her towards a direction.

“Byul-yi? Where are you going? We still have to go to the Jungs’ funeral!” Yongsun, her adoptive sister, harshly whispered after her, yet she was ignored. “Byul-yi!”

Byul-yi’s feet padded over the grass and before Hyejin could be completely ushered away, she caught her wrist. 

The little girl turned, shock was written on her face, and for the first time, Byul-yi saw up close the tear-stained expression of the beautiful Ahn Hyejin. Although she had looked strong earlier, Byul-yi realized that she was still just a child like her. 

“I-… I just wanted to sa-say…” Byul-yi stuttered; if her father saw her right now, he would’ve been disappointed at her display of weakness. 

“I’m sorry,” She muttered out. And truly, that was all she could really say. 

Hyejin stole her wrist back, looking as if she was burned by her touch. She looked at Byul-yi as if she were the most frightening thing she had ever seen. Byul-yi realized that perhaps she was; after all, she is the daughter of her family’s murderer.

Without another word, Hyejin was whisked away by the people still loyal to the Ahns and Byul-yi was left to stare at the space the girl once stood at, feeling for the first time in her life as if all the funerals she had attended before were her doing. 

For the first time in her life, feeling as if her hands were dripping with blood as red as the roses on those caskets.

Children do not just inherit their parents’ glory but also their sins. And Byul-yi, at the age of fifteen, already felt heavy with all of it.


	2. The Moons

_After twelve years: the year 2020_

It was a mesh of sensations all at once. The cool evening wind was streaming through the open window of her Bentley, hitting her face. For a moment, it was easier for her to breathe through the heaviness of the guilt her heart carries each day she lives in this wretched world.

If she had wings, she bet her life that she would be flying right now.

She would be soaring far away from here, as a bird that did not carry the burdens that she did. This poor illusion of careless freedom would have to do for now.

The city lights were bright with thousands of colours passing by in a blur of neon lines—she was going so fast that they looked like wonderful trails of colours, alive and dancing in her vision. Red and blue dominated her sight; she could see from her rearview mirror the three police cars chasing her tail.

Byul-yi tsked, rolling her eyes and looking as annoyed as she felt. She must’ve been too distracted, otherwise, they’d never get too close. Twisting the volume of her stereo, a rap song blasted aggressively off the speakers and drowned out the sounds of their sirens. It was an onslaught of different sensations. She was feeling them all at once and yet, Byul-yi had never felt so free; never felt so alone.

She pulled a hard left on the steering wheel and the car jumped over an island on the road. A sharp groaning sound came from the side and Byul-yi knew that her car had been scratched. It didn’t matter. These things were not difficult for her to replace. 

She crossed towards a sidewalk before gliding down on a ditch leading towards a tunnel and then drifted to turn the other direction. People screamed as they pushed amongst themselves to not get run over. 

A smirk formed on her face as she saw the police cars behind her pause at the edge of the road, scratching their heads at her reckless antics, before turning around and finding another avenue to get to her. 

She stepped forcefully on the gas pedal; the tires screeched when her Bentley launched towards a direction that she’s all too familiar with.

Byul-yi was going to win, again. It was almost pitifully hilarious; the city’s cops were a bunch of idiots.

Her phone rang as she turned a sharp corner, slowing down as she entered an alley that would lead her to the abandoned parking building that cut through to the other side of the city. Byul-yi sees the caller and presses the answer button on the screen with a sigh.

“Why were you rejecting my calls?” The voice of Byul-yi’s adoptive sister replaced the upbeat tune coming from the speakers. “I’ve been calling you for the past hour—“

“I’m driving, Yongsun.”

“Where are you? You were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago,” she scolded.

There was a pause as Byul-yi decided not to answer, entering the tunnel leading to the outside of the parking building. 

“Byul-yi,” Yongsun warned and Byul-yi already knew that the older girl had tracked her GPS location. “It’s never a good thing when you drive through that shortcut. Why do you have to be so stubborn—“

“Look, I just needed the adrenaline. And it’s not like these idiots are gonna catch me, the police never do.”

Byul-yi emerged at the other side of the building, her tires bouncing over a bump as she drove through the main road again. 

“You and your games,” Yongsun mutters under her breath. “Just get your ass over here! After everything, you’d feel sorry for yourself if you ended up dying just because of a simple car crash.”

“When I wake up in hell, I bet that’ll be the least of my regrets.”

The call dropped and Byul-yi chuckled; a smirk forming at the creases of her lips knowing that she had just won that argument. 

She turned a corner and halted in front of a towering building. Its walls were covered in white marble from the ground up to the very top. During the morning, when the sunlight shone against it, the tower looked nothing short of majestic. Some would even dare call it the most breathtaking building in Kingsland. Although most would just refer to it as the ‘City Gem’, the headquarters of Moonstar Creatives, Inc.

Byul-yi turned off the engine and smiled contentedly at her reflection on the side mirror—not even one hair was out of place. She stepped out, her black heels hitting the pavement and her sleek, black suit clinging to her figure. She shook on her red coat, leaned on the side of her Bentley and waited with an air of boredom. 

Yawning as her wristwatch struck another minute, she heard the blaring sirens before she saw them. Not a few seconds later, three police cars screeched to a halt in front of her. The car door opened and a man, Byul-yi assumed to be the highest rank amongst them, approached her with a stern look on his face.

Byul-yi dismissively looked at her fingernails, as if the presence of the cop didn’t even warrant an ounce of her attention. 

“Won again, officer. What do you have to say about your team?” She says, reaching inside her coat to get a thick envelope.

“We’ll catch you next time,” the policeman replied, his tone dripping with barely hidden contempt. Oh, they hated her alright—didn’t matter to Byul-yi as long as they couldn’t do anything about it. 

“Sure,” Byul-yi nods at the cars. “Three cars and I still got here five minutes ahead of time. You should be ashamed, officer. Would you consider changing careers? I suggest an ice cream truck, and then perhaps your slow driving might be justified.”

Byul-yi knows she shouldn’t taunt the man, but she couldn’t resist having a bit more fun, especially when she sees his eyebrow twitch. He had some restraint—smart, she appreciated that at least. 

“Are my men and I dismissed?” He asked, almost snarling.

Byul-yi yawned. “You’re dismissed. For your cooperation,” she handed the thick envelope to the man, who received it and stowed it underneath his uniform. “It was a pleasure making fools out of you.”

The man bowed, his anger boiling under his skin. The moment he turned around to go, Byul-yi heard a silent mutter. It was quiet, but she heard it all the same.

“Someday you might not find it so pleasant.”

“Officer, was that a threat?”

The man froze on the spot, not expecting to be heard, before he faced Byul-yi once more, subtly gulping his fear. 

“Only a dead man would dare threaten a Moon in this city.”

“Keep that in mind,” Byul-yi said “I wouldn’t want to lose such a useful toy as yourself. You should go, before my mind changes.”

She spun on her heel, strutting inside the double glass doors and barely paying notice to the bowing people around her. She only spots one important person among the crowd of employees—her assistant and secretary, Kim Yongsun.

Yongsun was tapping her feet impatiently, her face contorted in dissatisfaction.

“Unnie, you’re going to have wrinkles. And then your age will show. Stop scowling.”

Yongsun matches her stride as they walk towards the elevator, the crowd parting like a wave to make way for the two most powerful women in the whole building; dare she say the whole city, even.

“Why do you do it? It’s not because it’s fun, you don’t like having fun. So maybe you like the idea of being caught. Is that it?” Yongsun mutters sarcastically, standing beside her inside the elevator. 

The people inside scurry out immediately upon seeing who had entered, all their heads were bowed down as they left the company of the siblings. 

Yongsun pressed the top floor button, 66th.

“Everybody needs a hobby, Yongsun-unnie.” The elevator shoots up and minutes later the door opens. Byul-yi smirks as she walks out, “And I love outsmarting people.”

A wide glass wall separates them from the office and Yongsun steps forward with a sigh, pressing her index finger into the scanner beside the door—the red light above it turning green. They both enter, Byul-yi making a beeline towards her desk and flopping down onto it while Yongsun places a folder down in front of her. 

"So, what do you have for me today?" 

Yongsun sits on the couch in front of Byul-yi’s desk and sighs.

"A model has been caught sampling our drugs. She was high during the last rehearsal and ended up ruining a hundred thousand dollar wedding gown. One that was part of our newest collection." 

"So, bad news first huh," Byul-yi says almost nonchalantly. 

She takes the folder and opens it. The face of Winston, one of their female models, looks directly at her. She had always been quite unstable; a bad investment that Byul-yi spotted from the very start of the woman's career and should've been dealt with immediately. Byul-yi presses her fingertips together. A thousand dollar dress is the price she has to pay for thinking that there’s potential in everyone. And Winston, in her part, did prove to have that potential—a potential to be a crackhead. 

"What drug?" 

"Heroin," Yongsun replied. 

Byul-yi pressed her fingers to her temple. The freedom she felt earlier from racing her car, all crumpled down like the dust she left on the streets. 

"Out of all drugs. Deal with her... And send a 'message', she knows the consequences." 

They both know exactly what that 'message' is. Yongsun's face tightens as she nods. 

"On another note, we’re on the final stage of preparation for Fashion Week. We'll be ready by the end of this week, we just need some adjustments on the guest list." 

"That's good. You'll handle that?" Byul-yi says with a small smile of gratitude. 

"Already on it," Yongsun nods. "Just tell me if you have any personal invitations." 

"Is that all?" 

Yongsun bites her lip—a sign of hesitancy. Byul-yi has always reminded her to watch her tells, especially in front of business partners who always try to spot and prey on weaknesses. 

"... Andrew Mirren is also requesting to meet with you. He's in the collection lounge right now... He's been there all afternoon waiting for you." 

Byul-yi's brow furrows. That was unusual. 

While the Moons controlled the Southeast of the city, only one man ruled over the Northwest. That man was the cunning, clever and resourceful Andrew Mirren. He had been one man against the other City Kings when he had first arrived in the city some fourteen years ago, and yet it only took him a few years to secure himself a throne. 

The man was born to become a businessman or a politician. Byul-yi had known him since she was a child. A man almost in his late thirties and is as charming as he is convincing. 

She admired him for a time in her youth. He held himself with such confidence and power, one that was different from her father who was strong-willed and held no room for defiance. Moon Jin-ho is a man with an iron fist, but Andrew Mirren is an alluring fox, whispering into your ears all you desire, all he wants you to want until everything willingly goes into his favour. 

He was deadly charismatic. It was only when Byul-yi grew older that she learned the devil was the same way. 

She has always been careful around the man. No matter how respectful, amiable and friendly he presents himself, the most unexpected knives are the ones stabbed behind your back. Trusting someone was a deadly flaw in their world. Byul-yi wouldn't trust a fly inside her quarters and she definitely wouldn't trust another City King. 

"He didn't have an appointment," Byul-yi says, suspiciously. 

The Moons had a partnership with Mirren. A mutual agreement that eliminated turf wars within the city for ten years. But Andrew never dabbled into their legal business, their exchanges were mostly within the illegal trades of both their families. If he wanted to meet, he would've notified her ahead of time or went to the Moon Headquarters. It was almost hilarious to think that the King of the Northwest wasted his whole afternoon in her Creatives company, looking at wedding gowns. 

"Yes... He said it was a friendly visit." 

Byul-yi rolled her eyes. “Why is he there then? My office is here.”

“He’s been looking at the wedding gowns,” Yongsun answered but of course, Byul-yi already suspected as much. “He wants to meet you there.”

Byul-yi pursed her lips in mild irritation. Mirren can become so arrogant sometimes, and yet his charisma is so overwhelming people tend to let it pass through their heads. Admittedly, Byul-yi finds it endearing. She won’t let him know that, however.

Yongsun’s deadpan expression makes Byul-yi chuckle. Her older sister has never been amused by the man, unlike her. 

“He forgets his place. This is my territory,” Byul-yi remarks, taking a bottle of wine from a bucket beside her table and pours herself a drink. “Tell him that he comes here, or he won’t see me at all.”

Yongsun sighs and nods before turning around towards the elevator. This was merely a power-play between the two and Yongsun was all too familiar with this petty game by now. A challenge of who will give into the other’s curiosity and demand first.

She never understood all these mind games that Byul-yi liked to indulge in. Yongsun was more like her adoptive father, Moon Jin-ho, in that aspect. She was straightforward, and although at times, she is a bit ditzy—she knew what she wanted and wasted no time to get it. 

Byul-yi, however, liked to play with her food, especially when her food plays back.

&  
  


In the end, she cursed her curiosity.

She tapped her foot irritably against the metal flooring of the elevator as she descended towards the collection lounge. 

Byul-yi loathed admitting that the knowledge of Mirren’s presence a few floors below her was too tempting for her curiosity to resist. Such unusual behaviour was often accompanied by interesting information and Byul-yi lasted merely an hour pondering about it before she decided that she could get anything she damn wanted in her damn building. 

Byul-yi also hated that she knew that Andrew knew she wouldn’t be able to fight it. That’s just how he was: he knew people very well. The satisfied smirk that greeted Byul-yi as she met the green eyes of the man told her as much. 

He looked so satisfied with his manipulation that Byul-yi was tempted to throw him off the building and claim the Northwest for herself—if only she enjoyed being a powerful underground mastermind. She idly wondered how unstoppable she could have been if she did. 

Yongsun still hadn’t noticed her arrival, too busy with the models, photographers and the fashion designers huddling by the runway. 

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d never come. Would you like to sit with me?” Andrew invited her. 

He was seated at the lounge couch at the back of the large room, quietly watching the commotion happening a few meters away from him. He was isolated but his position meant he could easily see the whole room. 

Byul-yi glared at him but sat all the same. “I own the building, Andrew. I don’t have to be invited to sit anywhere. You, however...” She trailed off, crossing her arms as she watched her models. 

“I apologize for being such a nuisance, what with coming unannounced. It was very rude of me, I realized.” He didn’t look sorry at all with that wide smirk on his face. “But we’re old friends, aren’t we? You won’t assassinate me for merely wanting to visit, now, would you? Especially since you bloom more beautifully each day, and I just wouldn’t want to miss anything of it.” 

“Business must be going great if you have all this time to loiter around,” she says, unamused, still not meeting his eyes since she sat down beside him. 

Andrew chuckles. “Ah, on the contrary, Byul-yi, I don’t waste time. I build relationships. It just so happens that relationships require time to flourish. Every second is a good investment.”

“Well you might have plenty of time for relationships, Andrew, but I don’t. What do you want?” Byul-yi turns and meets his eyes for the first time. 

“Tsk. So impatient, Byul-yi. You’re too young to turn into your dear father, you know,” Andrew smirks. So, he did want to run around in circles and play with her.

Any other day, Byul-yi would’ve responded the same way, but something about his last sentence pushed a button. Suddenly, she had no patience reserved for this man today. 

She was not in any way going to end up like her father.

“If it’s about the fur shipments next month, I’ve already notified your end about the changes regarding the dropping point and given them the renewed contacts. Since you’re here, I gather you have concerns with this that you want to address?” 

They are both watching the models get fitted. It’s how they normally discuss business with each other. Never in formal offices, but in the most conversational manner as if they were merely friends discussing the most normal topics under the sun. 

Andrew snickers. “So straightforward. All work and no play is the Moon way, that’s what they say,” he says almost in a sing-song. “But no, dear Byul-yi, it’s not about that.” 

“The drug trade, then?”

It was highly unlikely since the procedures had already been set in stone since the beginning. They had encountered no major conflict and so there hadn’t been any need for improvements. No need to fix something that was not broken.

There was another shipment to be delivered this week though. But these involved firearms and weapons—the Moons had never been in business with Mirren when it came to these products. He didn’t dapple on war effects and so Byul-yi didn’t see what Andrew’s immediate concern was.

“Not that either,” he said in an almost sing-song tone that immediately seeped underneath Byul-yi’s skin.

She was getting annoyed with the man. She had to remind herself that he was a City King. Though he presented himself so light-heartedly, Andrew Mirren was not a man to be taken lightly. 

“Then what is it?” It took everything in her not to snap out the words.

Andrew gestured towards the collection lounge, filled with varying designs of the most beautiful wedding gowns. 

“Why don’t you take a guess, given the premises?”

Byul-yi was silent for a while before she burst into laughter. 

“What? You want a wedding gown?”

It was said sarcastically and Byul-yi wholeheartedly expected the man to dismiss the thought, but she was surprised when he kept silent. He took out a briefcase beside him and opened it to reveal hundreds of small cut rubies. 

Byul-yi had to control her face before her jaw dropped. She smirked at him.

“Rubies? Is this your way of proposing to me?” She jested. “You’re not my type.”

“As tempting as the idea of us may be,” Andrew smirked. “Your father will sooner have me assassinated before he allows us to merge our families.”

“Ah, the classic power move. The wedding of the heir to steal the throne.”

“Any person who sees you merely as a trophy wife is an imbecile. We would’ve made the most powerful couple in the city,” Andrew smirked. “I’d have to ask: if ever this is a proposal, what would you have answered? Satisfy a man’s curiosity.”

Byul-yi snorted. “It’s a ‘no’, Mirren. You’re like an evil uncle to me.”

Mirren’s charming laughter echoed through the space, catching Yongsun’s attention and making the older woman raise a questioning eyebrow towards Byul-yi, which she ignored.

“But I do want a wedding gown made,” Andrew points to the case full of rubies. “With these darlings stitched into it. Wouldn’t that be quite the masterpiece to add to your collection?”

“I am not your employee to order around, Mirren,” Byul-yi chastises almost distractedly as dozens of dazzling designs flittered through her head. 

Yes, with these gems, Byul-yi could make the most stunning wedding dress that even the Queen of England would covet. She could just imagine how beautiful the portraits would look like, and she almost drooled at the prospect.

“I am requesting, love,” Andrew kindly smiles, although Byul-yi knew better than to trust his charming ways. “And that if you accept, it may be the centrepiece of your next collection. Of course, under the condition that after Fashion Week, it’s mine.”

Byul-yi bit her lip, running her fingers over the beautiful gemstones. “I have to say, Mirren. However tasteless your business may be but you certainly have some class when it comes to fashion. This will make for a very beautiful wedding gown.”

“Oh, and another thing. It should be designed after a Korean traditional wedding dress.”

The ideas inside Byul-yi’s head suddenly halted. She scrunched her eyebrows. Korean? Well, not that it was an odd request, however with how modern times were and with Andrew having foreign blood, she’d at least expected the gown to be more western-inspired. 

Unless...

“Korean?”

“Yes. You do want your collection to be more culturally inclusive, right? I heard diversity is simply the trend these days.”

Byul-yi shook her head, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Who is this wedding gown for? What are you up to?”

“It’s for my bride.”

Byul-yi burst out laughing. “Bride? You’re getting married? You?”

Instead of answering, the man takes a sip on his glass of whiskey. There was a smirk still on his lips.

“Wow... This is a surprise. I’ve completely mistaken you for an asexual, workaholic person, but I stand corrected.”

“Problem?”

Byul-yi took her glass of wine from the table and sipped it. She scoffed at him. “Probably a trophy wife, if anything. I don’t know what you need a trophy wife for but frankly, I’m over trying to figure anything out of your plans.”

The man simply takes another smaller case from beside him. This time he places it on her lap and presses his fingerprint on the scanning device. It clicks open.

Byul-yi throws him an untrusting glance before lifting the case open and gasping at what she sees inside. 

“No,” she breathes out in disbelief, taking out the pendant from the inside of her dress and popping out the magnifying glass hidden inside it. Then she delicately lifts the stunning piece of cut diamond in her fingers and examines it through her magnifying glass. In her hand is one of the rarest and most expensive diamonds in the world. It was a specimen to behold and apparently, very much authentic.

Well, this was getting rather interesting. No trophy wife would ever merit such an expensive gift unless, of course, if she was true royalty. Huh, maybe Mirren was marrying the Queen of England after all. Or perhaps, if there was a queen in Korea ... 

“It’s a red diamond,” Byul-yi breathes out in astonishment. “So, not a trophy wife then. Are you marrying actual royalty?”

Andrew chuckles. “I want this fashioned as a wedding ring.”

“I digress that humans and animals have been very profitable lately for you to have afforded this. Must’ve cost you a fortune,” Byul-yi says, almost bitterly. 

While the Moon’s illegal business wasn’t exactly impeccable in moral standards, Byul-yi’d like to think that their business held some sense of dignity compared to the shamelessness of Mirren’s. 

The Moon’s had legal businesses to launder the illegal income of their fortune. Moonstar Creatives Inc. was one example, along with the exaggeratedly luxurious restaurants and hotels and the notorious bars and pubs they owned within the Southeast side of the city. 

They also owned a liquor and tobacco company inherited from the Ahn’s after the takeover. And although the illegal division of their operations proved to be much more lucrative, the Moon’s had never gone beyond illegal shipments of inanimate objects. 

Mirren’s businesses, on the other hand, relied heavily on live objects. The human, animal and organ trafficking and not to mention, prostitution, had disgusted Byul-yi upon discovery. 

She had respected Andrew Mirren in her young age and would even go as far as to say that he became more of a role model than her actual father. However, all of that went down the drain when she discovered his illegal operations. 

Byul-yi then realized, with much mortification, that she might as well have idolized the devil himself.

Andrew’s chuckle of satisfaction broke Byul-yi out of her musings.

“You underestimate my wealth, Byul-yi. And you would know, wouldn’t you?” He took the black fur of her coat in between his fingers, pulling it dangerously close to his lips. “The animal part, anyway. So what fur is this? Bear?”

Byul-yi’s stomach churned with disgust. His implication was clear. Although Byul-yi would never deny any involvement in the crimes of her family, the blunt comment was like a slap to her face. She purposefully didn’t spend a lot of time with animals or people that weren’t part of their mob world in general. The less she knew about their lives; the easier it was to not empathize and feel guilt for her sins. 

She didn’t uphold their business because she enjoyed it. But it was her duty; she was the only heir. This was to be her empire someday. 

So maybe she will turn out to become like her father someday. 

At the reminder, Byul-yi felt her throat constrict. There was suddenly a sour taste on her tongue. She ignored his comment and moved the topic along.

“If I didn’t know better, Andrew, I’d say you’re in love. It’s a repulsive thing to witness, unfortunately,” She teased. Yes, keep the conversation light. 

Andrew smirked devilishly. “You do know better. Monsters like us, Ms. Moon Byul-yi, we don’t love.”

Byul-yi mastered her expression. She wouldn’t let him see the insecurity she felt at his statement. She wouldn’t admit to herself that with everything she had—all the fortune, power and fame—she coveted such an idealistic illusion such as love. 

No matter how she tried though, the smirk in Andrew’s face told her that he knew just what she was thinking. He took her silence as his cue to leave, taking victory in their little verbal spat.

“I’ve kept you from your art long enough. Farewell, Ms. Moon, you’ll keep me updated with our agreement, won’t you?” He stood up and fixed his cuffs. “If you need inspiration, I’ll advise you to visit the Kingsland Museum. I hear they have exquisite Korean artefacts.”

Byul-yi wet her lips, seemingly recovered. “I’ll send you the designs after my designers make them.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I wholeheartedly trust in your abilities. I’ll be seeing them for the first time at Fashion Week. It was lovely conversing with you as always, Byul-yi. Have a night as beautiful as you,” he bowed at her, all the while the smirk never leaving his face.

He sauntered off almost elegantly out of the room and out of her sight.

Byul-yi dropped all pretences and sighed into the couch. She glimpsed one last time at the gorgeous diamond in her lap before closing the case and putting it away.

The mere sight of the vibrant red reminding her of the one thing she craved most in her life. How come the devil incarnate himself was getting married and here Byul-yi was a hostage in her life’s circumstances? It didn’t seem fair.

However, Byul-yi had to remind herself that while red symbolizes ‘love’, it was also the colour of hell.


	3. Ahn Hyejin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will update the chapters here in AO3 to match the ones in AFF. So here's an onslaught of chapters!

It was a thunderstorm.

The clock struck midnight almost harmoniously with the quick flashes of lightning that streaked across the blackness of the night. It was dark; the moonlight disappearing behind the heavy dark clouds and the calmness of the night drowned by the hard pouring of the rain and the harsh howling of the wind.

A woman clad in dark leather stood firmly at the top deck of the ship, braving the wild waves. Her hair, a deep black blended beautifully with the pitch darkness of the night. The brightness of her red lipstick, sticking out like a sore thumb, almost like a burning flame midst a typhoon. 

Her face was covered by a black mask, save for her eyes that crinkled at the edges with excitement. If it weren’t for the cover, the smirk on her plump lips would’ve been visible for everyone on board to see. They didn’t dare call her crazy for being amused with their circumstances, not with all the weapons attached to her lithe figure. 

Six guns. Two pistols strapped on either thigh, two submachine guns dangling at her back and two revolvers strapped around both her legs hidden inside her boots. Almost fifty loaded magazines strapped around her waist in a belt and across her chest. 

All of them with silencers.

And lastly, two knives. One inside her left boot. One in her belt. 

Standing there, the young woman was akin to the executioner of death and the hundreds of men on board seemed to think the same. They were all within the storm, shivering from the cold and the anxiety of their task at hand. But to say the least, they might’ve been more intimidated by the woman’s presence than the ferocious weather itself.

The vessel they were chasing was a hundred meters ahead but well in sight. It was slow for its size and the carriage it was carrying. They would be catching up in no less than an hour. Everyone on board was on high alert. Except for her.

The only woman onboard and the only person with a smirk on their face.

Yes, for Ahn Hyejin, it was a perfect night for an ambush.

&  
  


“Headcount, Bron,” Hyejin orders, peering through her vernaculars and counting the visible guards on the top deck. 

Beside her was one of her men, Bron, peering through a monitor where heat sensors showed thermal bodies move across the four-decked ship. 

“Fifty guards on deck. Twenty-five on the second. Ten on the third. Fifteen on the last. A hundred all on board. It’s too many for you to handle alone, ma’am.”

Hyejin rolled her eyes, adjusting the belt of magazines across her chest, and responding as if she hadn’t heard Bron’s concern.

“I’m going in. If there’s no flare in twenty minutes, you go ahead and board the ship.”

“Are you sure about this, ma’am? If anything happened to you, the boss would have our heads.”

“You worry too much, Bron. Am I a trained assassin or not? I can probably behead you before you can even blink an eye,” she salutes with a fatal look in her eyes that dared anyone to object her words, before sprinting across the deck and gracefully leaping over the rails and into the crashing waters.

Bron sighs and looks at the fifty men on deck who seemed worried by the young woman’s antics, waiting for his leadership on the matter. His second-in-command stood beside him, shaking his head.

“That woman is batshit crazy. And fuckin’ scary if she knocks out a hundred armed men by herself in just twenty minutes,” the man said. “That’s some Angelina Jolie type of shit.”

Bron could only shake his head; he didn’t know if it was because of admiration or exasperation. The boss’ girl was reckless, and yet he was entrusted with the impossible task of her safety. 

“Oh, you know she will. I don’t even know why we brought fifty men along. She acts as if we’re just here for decoration like a bunch of sissy cheerleaders!”

“Should’ve just brought pom-poms instead of guns, Bron.”

&  
  


Twenty-five minutes.

Damnit. Hyejin thought, swiftly sliding across the hallway to avoid a series of gunshots. She caught a glimpse of the men inside the room. Five more, she thought. These last five, troublesome men caused her an extra five minutes. Why couldn’t they just give up?

She peered through the corner, assessing the man most visible to her, hiding through another corner. Hyejin reloaded her guns. She only had a few magazines left. 

Although her weapons were diminishing, there was not one scratch or bruise on her skin. The only proof of her efforts was the sweat trickling down her neck. She couldn’t believe how easy it had been. Did these guards even have any training? 

Their bosses must’ve been confident with their reputation to think that no one would dare attack their shipments because these were the most incompetent guards Hyejin had ever encountered. That or she was just that good. 

God, she loved fighting. This ambush was the most exciting activity she had engaged in months. 

She just needed one opening. The man, trembling in his shoes probably at the realization that they had just been defeated by one girl, peered a little too far out of his corner.

 _Gotcha_ , Hyejin smirked.

She cocked the gun and shot straight through the man’s head. Hyejin didn’t wait for the body to hit the floor or for the other four men to react, she ran for it. The moment Hyejin stepped into the room she dropped to her knees, pointing the two guns she held in both of her hands and shot. 

_Two more,_ Hyejin thought triumphantly.

The other two pointed their guns towards her and Hyejin swiftly rolled to the side to hide behind a metal crate. The gunshots rocketed against the metal. She took a knife from her waist, peered out of the corner and threw the knife straight into the man’s skull. The last man reacted, and in that split second of distraction, Hyejin kicked the gun out of his hands. 

They stared at each other for a moment as the gun slithered across the floor. The man stared at her in panic, and Hyejin looked back emotionless. 

He grappled on the floor, reaching towards the gun. But before he caught it in his hands, Hyejin shot him.

The silence after the bang was almost deafening.

Hyejin stretched her limbs, yawning as she felt her bones crack from the exhaustion. 

She turned towards the hallway that she came from and saw about a dozen men lying on the ground. It was a gory sight, but she decided not to dwell on it.

Hyejin knocked on the metal crate, opening it from the side and saw the hundreds of firearms stashed inside. She chuckled triumphantly. And that was just one of the hundreds of crates inside the ship. Christmas came early for Hyejin, it seems.

“Beautiful,” Hyejin breathed. She took out one of the guns, pointed it towards the clock at the wall and hit it dead centre. 

The silence was disturbed by hundreds of footsteps scurrying down the metal floorboards and stairs. Hyejin rolled her eyes and strutted to meet them. 

Bron appeared at the end of the hallway, looking a bit panicked at first. The moment their eyes met, Bron’s expression quickly shifted into a resigned irritation with a hint of respect.

Hyejin grinned, waving at him. “Sorry I was late. These last five were a determined bunch. How long?”

Bron grunted. “Thirty minutes, Hwasa.”

She pursed her lips, throwing him a knowing look. “Three men a minute. Not bad, right?”

“Really? You couldn’t have left a dozen for us to deal with? What are we, chopped liver?”

Hyejin smirked. “No. You’re here to clean this place up,” she patted the seemingly annoyed man on the chest. 

“Let’s pack up and sail this back to the island!” She bellowed to the men littering the hallway, armed with guns but looking quite disappointed at the lack of action.

A simultaneous groan echoed through them.

Bron’s second-in-command stood beside him, sighing. “Cleaning ladies, Bron, that’s what we are. Should’ve just brought brooms.”

“Shut up,” Bron scowled, then turned to Hyejin. “Were the explosives necessary?”

Hyejin blinks innocently. “It adds flair. Don’t tell me you don’t like a good ‘ole action cliché? It’s all about being a badass these days, Bron. Nothing says badass better than explosions,” Hyejin teased.

“Whatever. You take longer talking than beating down hundred-pound grown men,” Bron grumbled. 

“Remove the tracers, boys!” He bellowed, then turning towards Hyejin. “The boss wants to talk to you.”

Just after he said that Hyejin’s phone began to ring. A smirk flashed prettily on her face. She answers it and presses it on her ear.

“I see the storm didn’t stop you. I wouldn’t expect any less from my feisty rose,” A smooth voice from the other line said. “Did you enjoy your little escapade?”

Hyejin climbed up the stairs, chuckling under her breath. “Excessively. Thank you for the engagement gift, love.”

&

It was a thunderstorm.

Byul-yi dived into her Queen-sized mattress; the cushion bouncing under her weight. She snuggled deep into her thick fur covers and groaned. She felt the exhaustion of the long day in her bones. The cold weather was begging her to doze off.

She couldn’t even be bothered by the work clothes she was still wearing. Her heels were still stuck in her soles. Her whole body felt like a ton of bricks that Byul-yi just couldn’t move from her comfortable position. 

Her eyes were starting to droop and her mind was floating towards dreamland when a frustrated scream from the room across hers woke her up.

She scrunched her eyes. If they had been average people, she wouldn’t be concerned but alas, they were part of a mob and any sign of distress was a cause of alarm. 

Byul-yi shot up from her bed, grasping at the gun she kept under her bed and rushed across the room. She opened Yongsun’s room to see the woman frantically pacing, jamming her fingers on the screen of her tablet.

“What’s wrong?”

Yongsun shook her head. “Nothing. The internet’s not working,” she paused. “Oh, never mind, it’s back on.”

Byul-yi deadpanned at her sister but calmed her heart. “Why are you still working? Didn’t you establish that ‘No Working at Home’ rule?”

Yongsun inclined her head distractedly. “Hmm? Oh, I just need to track the firearms shipment. It’s going past the China border. Cross-checking with our men’s report and making sure that it gets where it should be.” 

“Are those the new Phoenix Mark X pistols?”

Yongsun nodded, still looking at the screen. “Yep and hundreds of grenade bombs. Before you ask, all unbranded and anonymous. The brand can’t get involved in politics, blah blah, we both know that.”

Byul-yi entered the lavish room and fell back on the bed. She watched her sister sit down on the table opposite her. 

“Yongsun, we’re a firearms and weapons manufacturer. We’ll always be involved in politics,” Byul-yi said sarcastically. After all, it was always the government that needed the most weapons.

“Yeah, well, we try not to pick sides,” Yongsun shrugged.

“Right and that group is going to win a war. Or, we’re probably funding terrorism—“

“Byul-yi,” Yongsun sighed. “We’re not funding them. It’s not like we’re giving these for free. It’s a product and they employed our service. Whatever they choose to do with it is out of our hands. That’s business—“

“But nevermind that,” Byul-yi interrupted sarcastically. “At least we’ll get so much richer than what we probably need to be. Illegality is proving itself lucrative these days.”

Yongsun sighed again. “I’m not talking to you when you’re like that. Anyway, father wants to discuss something with you.”

“Can’t handle the guilt?”

Yongsun looks away from the tablet for the first time since Byul-yi entered and meets her eyes. There was a wave of budding anger in her expression. “If you want out, then you’re free to get away from all of this. It’s not like you can’t afford to,” she snapped.

Byul-yi didn’t back down. “This is in my blood, Yongsun. It’s never that easy. I am a Moon and not to mention an heiress to a monstrosity of business and fortune. I’ll never get away from this. Never.”

There was a pause as they both stared each other down. Yongsun conceded first. They had this argument a hundred times before and the solution was still as impossible as it did then.

“Look,” Yongsun takes Byul-yi’s hand and squeezes it. “Just stay and rest. I’ll tell father you didn’t come home, alright? You can meet him tomorrow.”

“Thanks, unnie,” Byul-yi gave her a tight smile.

Yongsun let go of her hand, focusing intently on her tablet once more. “And eat something, please.”

“Hmm.”

There was a silence as Yongsun resumed her task of tracking the vessel, while Byul-yi laid on her bed, her eyes stuck to the ceiling as she wondered. Several minutes must have passed before she spoke again.

“How would you alter a Korean traditional wedding dress to look modern enough?” She wondered out loud.

There was no answer from her sister.

“Yongsun-unnie?” Byul-yi removed her gaze from the ceiling to check on her sister who sat a few inches away from her. 

“Fuck,” Yongsun breathe out.

It was only then that Byul-yi noticed the shaking of the older woman’s fingers and the slight tremble in her breathing. Her expression was strained, eyebrows furrowed as she frantically began tapping on the tablet’s screen. 

Byul-yi sat up immediately, trying to catch her sister’s attention. From her expression, something had gone wrong.

“Unnie, Yongsun-unnie,” Byul-yi shook her stricken sister. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Suddenly, Yongsun was a flurry of activity. She stood up quickly, taking the coat draped on the back of her chair and slinging her bag on her shoulder. Each step she took rang with bells of urgency.

“Hey! Yongsun!”

“I have to go over at Minshil’s,” she says by way of answering. Minshil was the headquarters of the Moon’s security. “The shipments have been compromised.”

“What? An ambush?” Byul-yi sprang from her seat and followed in her sister’s footsteps as she hurried out of the room.

“I don’t know yet. The men on board were in chaos several seconds before I lost all contact with them. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“How many men on board?”

“A hundred.”

Byul-yi gulped, her mouth suddenly dry. She had never liked the concept of people dying, which was ironic seeing as death was the foundation of her life. Didn’t mean that Byul-yi didn’t feel any less guilty for it.

“The signal could’ve just been jammed because of the storm.”

Yongsun looked at her apprehensively. “The tracers have been disabled. This is intentional, Byul. I’ll find out more when I get to security headquarters. I’m off.”

“I’m coming with you,” Byul-yi insisted.

Yongsun turned around so sharply that Byul-yi who was following closely behind almost fell backwards. 

“No! Stay here and enable the security system. We don’t know if this is a declaration of war and they might be after you. Stay here, Byul. I mean it,” she says firmly.

At times like these when Yongsun’s authority shines through, Byul-yi’s reminded how much older and more responsible her sister is. Even though Byul-yi is the heiress of the family, she knew that when it came to their business, Yongsun is a thousand times more skilful in it than Byul-yi will ever be. The woman was a natural. At times, Byul-yi wished that she would inherit the Moon empire instead of her. 

Yongsun made her way towards the door.

“Yongsun,” Byul-yi called out, standing straight and acting every bit as the heir that was expected of her. “Find out who’s responsible and retaliate. Not one left alive, you know the protocol.”

Yongsun nods resolutely. “No one fucks with the Moons,” she says one last time before she disappears in a flurry of closed doors and pouring rain. 

Byul-yi’s left in the vast centre room alone. The pounding of her heart was the only thing she could hear in the silence. Without her sister, the ridiculously large and extravagant mansion seemed lonely. 

The place always made her feel like she was all alone in the world, despite knowing that her father was probably in one of these rooms. She had wondered once if it was unusual to live under the same roof and still see each other so scarcely. 

When she arrived back inside her room, she opened her writing desk and retrieved a small journal inside. Its pages were filled with black lines from the very top down to the very edges of the paper. It was the tally of all the people that they have killed and have died for the sake of their company. She didn’t take their lives lightly. She bore the weight of every death in her chest. Tallying their death was her punishment—her torture.

Byul-yi clutched her phone and the journal in either hand as she apprehensively waited for any news from her sister. In the back of her head, Byul-yi prepared herself for the possibility of adding a hundred new lines in the pages of her journal.


	4. Silver Lining

Byul-yi never did like how blood looked in paintings. No matter how great the painter, paint could never really convey the morbidity of blood. The thickness… The vibrance… It just wasn’t the same. Byul-yi wasn’t a regular visitor of museums to be an expert at paintings, but she had been in enough morgues to know how blood loses its captivating red in a span of a few minutes. 

She removed gaze from the painting. It was an image of a massacre—every detail was splendidly done. Byul-yi could only fault the blood. 

There was suddenly a stone wedged in her throat, blocking the air and making her heave a deep breath. 

_Why is it so stuffy in here?_

But Byul-yi knew all too well why her chest suddenly felt like it was caving in. Massacre. The painting filled with terrified faces of victims. It only reminded Byul-yi of the men they lost. What did they see in their dying moments? What pain did they feel?

They hadn’t caught the culprits yet. The cargo ship was found submerged underwater, along with the bodies of those hundred men, some of them missing as they were claimed by the sea. The shipments were stolen and nowhere to be found. One of their home bases was bombed and destroyed.

Byul-yi clenched her eyes tightly, willing her mind to dwell on other matters. When she opened her eyes once more, she met eyes with a girl in the painting. With brown hair just like hers, with dark round eyes just like hers, and screaming out for help—screaming with every vein in her body, screaming for somebody to take her hand and pull her out of that hellhole. 

Subconsciously, she didn’t notice her hand almost reaching out to touch the girl. The girl who was just like her. Her fingers were inches from the painting, almost touching. If only she could reach out her hand and grab it. So she could take her somewhere safe, somewhere she could be happy—

—and someone did grab her hand. 

Byul-yi's breath hitched as smooth fingers wrapped around her own, the warmth of the other’s palm seeping through the back of her hand. Her head snapped in surprise to the person next to her. 

She met with dark brown eyes, a few shades darker than her own. The next color she saw was the vibrancy of red adorning the beautiful lips of the woman before her.

The red shade of her lips—now _that’s_ the exact colour of blood, Byul thought.

Byul-yi’s eyebrows scrunched. She snatched her hand away, causing the woman to blink before sending a small harmless smile her way.

“You can’t touch the paintings,” she said simply, her voice calm and soft that Byul barely noticed she was addressing her.

“What?” Byul blinked.

“Museum rules, right there,” The woman said, pointing at the small plaque beside the painting where _‘Do not touch the paintings’_ was undoubtedly written. 

She turned to Byul once again, now with a small smirk playing on her lips. “The museum director is also a very passionate woman, so you wouldn’t want to incur her wrath if she finds out you go around touching centuries-old paintings.”

Again, Byul had yet to recover from the odd fact that someone as unfamiliar and unimportant as this woman was conversing with her in public. It was beyond normal, as her normalcy now consisted of people being too intimidated to even approach her.

Yet this woman with her sharp features and her husky but gentle voice was talking to her with such confidence and familiarity that it made even Byul… feel normal. 

She realized that she liked it. It was a welcome emotion. 

Byul-yi clenched the hand the woman touched, her skin still tingling. She took a wary observation. 

The woman’s thick, dark hair flowed down in waves along her back and delicately framed her pretty face. Her eyes were small yet so expressive. Often they say the eyes are the window to the soul. Byul-yi thought this woman’s eyes were as deep as the ocean and yet seemed as honest as shallow water. 

She was wearing a simple and cosy sweatshirt two times bigger than her. On her feet were white bedroom slippers that contrasted the bright red of her nail polish. The whole ensemble screamed comfort and home that even Byul found herself envious. She looked so unbothered, confident in her own shoes, content with her life. The simplicity of her outward appearance and the elegance in the way she carried herself was a beautiful harmony.

She was a beautiful woman, no doubt, like a rose blooming during spring. 

Byul-yi flashed a friendly smile, chuckling sheepishly. If this woman didn’t know who she was, then there was no need for pretences. _‘Right?’_ Byul thought.

“Caught me,” Byul raised her hand in mock-surrender. “Don’t rat me out to that museum director. She sounds terrifying.”

The woman’s smile widened coyly. “I should know. She’s my best friend.”

Byul raised her eyebrow in curiosity. Did Byul-yi know the identity of this museum director? She didn’t, not really. The Kingsland Museum is under Andrew’s jurisdiction, that’s about the only information she knew of this place. This was where they would often smuggle stolen artifacts and paintings. 

Most likely this woman’s best friend is one of Andrew’s minions. 

Did this woman know? She might have been already acquainted with their dark world. 

Proceed with caution, her mind reminded her. A voice that eerily reminded her of Yongsun. Great, even her nagging conscience was now in Yongsun-unnie’s voice.

“Sorry, I swear I’m not some museum-virgin. I don’t go around touching paintings,” Byul explained and the woman laughed. “There was just something about this girl’s expression… It’s so…”

"Captivating,” the woman filled in, smiling at Byul-yi as if she understood perfectly. 

“Yes, exactly.”

“The first thing I look at in paintings are people’s expressions. You may not know what the painting’s about but just one look at the expression, and suddenly it's as if it's speaking to you in a voice,” the woman pondered wistfully. “Reminds you that it’s not that different when it comes to real people. Expressions give away everything,” she smirks at Byul. 

Somehow it felt as if she was suddenly looking into her soul, and Byul realized that she didn’t feel defensive at all. She... liked being seen by this mysterious woman with the wisest eyes she had ever seen. 

“What expression did I give away?” Byul asked curiously, not expecting an answer. 

The woman shrugged. “You’re hard to read. But your eyes say that you’d rather be anywhere else than here.”

Her words resonated in Byul’s ears. Was she so easy to discern? Was her guilt, her sadness and her discontent already so palpable that it became too difficult to mask? Or was this woman that insightful to hear the words echoing in her heart she hardly ever says? 

Byul smiled charmingly. “Right. I’d rather be visiting a carnival than some boring, old museum filled with dead people and their things.” 

The woman seemed pleasantly surprised by her answer, and she giggled. 

“Why are you here then?” She smirked playfully. “Assuming that you don’t like dead things.”

Byul chuckled. “Ah, I was looking for the traditional attire section, but I got lost on the way. Safe to say I won’t find wedding dresses in the apparently massacre paintings section of the museum, right?”

The woman laughed. “Well, there is that one painting over there where the chief sacrifices the bride.”

Byul grimaced. “I don’t think that’s what my client has in mind.” 

Then Mirren’s devilish smirk came to mind and Byul’s forced to reconsider her thoughts. Well, she never knows when it comes to Mirren; maybe he’s going to sacrifice his bride for some sick ritual. 

“Client?” The woman blinked prettily.

"I’m uh…” Byul caught herself as she almost told the truth. It was reckless of her to accidentally slip her identity to this total stranger. No matter how breathtakingly beautiful she was. There was something about this person that made her want to lower her defenses.

“I’m part of the Creatives department at my office,” she smoothly covered. “We’re conceptualizing a wedding gown for a client.”

“I think it’s cool that you’re getting design inspirations from the museum. I can’t think of anyone that would do that,” The woman giggled. “I just realized that I know your job before I even got to know your name.”

“Oh, right,” Byul laughed. “I’m Byul.”

“Hwasa. I’m Hwasa.”

That was a very pretty name, Byul thought. It suits the woman. It sounded delicate, feminine, yet strong and confident. Most of all, it was unique and held a certain irresistible charm.

Hwasa pointed behind them with her thumb, a playful expression on her face. “So, do you want me to show you to the traditional attires section, or are you having fun with the depictions of violence and blood?”

That made Byulyi laugh genuinely. Something she noticed she was doing quite frequently in this captivating woman’s presence.

&  
  


The door of the Museum director’s office closed gently, alerting Jung Wheein to someone else’s presence inside the room. She looked up from the painting she was closely examining to greet her sudden guest.

“You’re in a good mood,” Wheein observed as she watched her best friend of ten years strut into the room with a contented smile on her face. 

Like any other day, Hyejin looked extremely comfortable in her simple, oversized sweatshirt. The woman walked towards Wheein’s table, lazily tracing the edges.

“She’s in the museum,” Hyejin said, a smirk on her lips. “Looking at gowns. I talked to her. But I had to leave for a bit, so she can think about if she wants me or not. She will, though. They always want more after I leave them.”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Wheein sighed. Her eyebrow meeting in slight annoyance. “Of course I know who.” 

The news triggered an unpleasant emotion in her chest that she didn’t even want to address, and so instead of entertaining her best friend’s mischievous plans, Wheein returned her attention to the artwork on her desk.

“You don’t want to talk about her,” Hyejin simply observed.

Wheein didn’t reply, distracting herself with the intricate details of what looked to be a century-old masterpiece. She sighed again, looking accusingly at Hyejin. “Where did you get this?”

Hyejin smiled guiltily. “You won’t like the answer.”

“It's a smuggled artifact, isn’t it?”

Hyejin’s guilty silence was enough of an answer. Wheein removed her eyeglasses and sat on the couch tiredly; her temples grasped into her fingertips.

“I appreciate all that you do for me, Hyejin. Getting me such a high position here in the museum when we came back to this city. I came here with you, so you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

Hyejin sat beside her best friend, leaning her head onto the smaller woman’s shoulders. “And I am thankful for that, every day. I can’t imagine life without you, Wheein.”

Wheein shook her head. “But I want to be as far away from our past as possible. I can’t stop you, but I don’t want to be involved any longer with all of this bad business. Look at what our parents ended up in. Maybe their deaths are a silver lining. We have a chance to start a life—a life away from all of this.”

Hyejin shook her head. Her soft shell hardening at Wheein’s objections. 

She sat up straight and scowled. How many times have they argued about this? Since they were children, Wheein had tried her hardest to pull her away from the path of vengeance and cruelty. 

But Hyejin couldn’t leave the past. 

She couldn’t forget the pain in her parent’s eyes as they hid her away. She couldn’t forget the sound of tortured screams and the sound of gunshots that silenced them. She was marked by that night for all of her life. As long as she had nightmares of her family’s massacre, then her vendetta against their murderers will never be over.

Wheein wasn’t like that. When the Jung clan were murdered by Andrew Mirren’s men, she had been on a vacation overseas. She didn’t have to relive her family’s death every time she closed her eyes at night. 

Her best friend was able to move on—able to go to a university, become an artist like she always dreamed. But Hyejin was chained to her fate. 

While her best friend attended classes, she trained to become an assassin. They got into lots of arguments, lots of falling out, but they always returned to each other’s side. 

Each other was all they had. 

But it didn’t mean that Wheein accepted her best friend’s choices despite not abandoning her; it didn't mean that she wouldn’t try to change Hyejin’s mind every chance she could get. 

It was the only thing about Wheein that Hyejin couldn’t stand. Her innocence, her passiveness, her kindness. Hyejin stood up, not able to tolerate her best friend when she was like this. 

“Wheein, I won’t stop until they get what’s coming to them. Why don’t you feel the same? Our families did nothing against these people and yet they slaughtered them like sheep and took everything from us. We were left to fend for ourselves as children!” Hyejin glared as she was reminded of the years they suffered as outcasts from their own home, without a penny to their name. 

“Don’t you feel angry? Hate? Because I do. I want them under my feet like worms. And I will crush them, I swear to God.”

Wheein felt the shudder run through her spine at the bloodlust and hatred wrapping like vines around Hyejin’s normally gentle voice. She watched Hyejin grow up, watched her mature and flourish into a beautiful woman. Wheein also watched her nurture the hatred in her heart, cherishing it like a treasure. 

She had been so preoccupied to stay as far away from her parent’s life that she failed to prevent her best friend transforming from the grief-stricken girl to the fatal murderer in front of her now. It would always render her speechless whenever Hyejin showed this side of her.

It was the reason why Wheein moved back to the city with her. She wouldn’t let Hyejin fall down the dark hole any longer until any semblance of her best friend disappeared into the abyss. 

But Hyejin was anything if not determined. It was too late, yet Wheein could never fathom leaving her alone to face her fate.

“I can’t save you, can’t I?” Wheein said sadly. “I’m going to get dragged into this no matter what, aren’t I?”

Hyejin couldn’t meet her eyes. “You could leave. You don’t have to be here.”

“I have to be here. Wherever you are, I go. Remember? That’s how it’s always been.”

Hyejin gathered her bag and wiped her cheeks. Wheein couldn’t properly see if there had been tears. Since becoming an assassin, Hyejin had become excessively good at hiding her emotions, even from Wheein herself.

“Then I’m sorry for being selfish, Wheein. I have to do this.”

A lone sigh. 

“I know. ”

&  
  


The traditional wedding gowns were right in front of her, and yet her mind couldn’t focus even if she tried. Moon Byulyi had been staring at the glass-encased gowns for the past thirty minutes, but the sketchbook on her lap is still as white as the museum walls. 

She kept getting distracted by the vibrant red roses embroidered onto the fabric of the wedding gowns. It reminded her of that woman she met a little while ago. Now she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the prospect of Hwasa somewhere in the building. 

The mysterious woman left abruptly as soon as they reached the traditional attire sections. Bidding her farewell with a simple excuse of meeting her best friend, the museum director, she fled to the elevator with that playful smile on her lips.

Byul had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last time she saw the woman. She wanted to see Hwasa again. It was all she could think about since they separated. 

No one had ever approached her with such confidence and playfulness. It eerily reminded her of Andrew Mirren, except that Hwasa was a hundred times more attractive. She was like a full-bloomed rose that Byul wanted to pluck and keep in an expensive glass case.

Byul groaned. She was thinking about her again; the beautiful woman’s smile and her eyes haunted Byul and she caved into the intense curiosity. 

This was all her father’s fault. Raising her to be so spoiled, she couldn’t even handle anything being kept from her. When she wanted something, oftentimes she would get it. And Byul wanted to know more about Hwasa. It’s not like she didn’t have the means and resources to arrange a meeting with her. It’s deciding whether she should or shouldn’t is the problem. 

Rarely anyone caught her attention. Only the very special ones, so there must be something about Hwasa—and that something just dangled temptingly in front of her like an apple to a horse.

Taking a quick picture of the traditional attires, she gave up on her previous goal and dialled a number she knew by heart.

One ring. Two rings. She answered. Just like always.

“Byul, what is it?” Yongsun’s voice rang through the speaker of her phone.

“Park Hwasa,” Byul answered. “Can you check this person’s background?”

“Sure. Wait a minute,” A pause. “Why are you background-checking a university student, Byul?”

Byul could hear the suspicion in Yongsun’s voice. She rolled her eyes. “Who is she?”

“Civilian. Grew up in our sister-city, just on the borders. Moved here a year ago to enrol in Kingsland Uni, masters in Music. 25 years old. Deceased parents—I don’t know what else you want to know. She’s normal.”

“Is she clean?”

Another pause. “Yeah, she’s clean. No record or connections whatsoever, except for a friend working in Kingsland Museum. Why are you being so thorough about this girl?”

Byul could feel her heart pick-up with every information said to her. If Yongsun couldn’t trace any illegal information about this girl, then no one else probably could.

Why did knowing that Hwasa was just a normal university student made her heart skip a beat? That there was someone out there who wasn’t part of their scary, dark world that piqued her interest—like a silver lining. 

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you back.”

“Hey, wait. Byul, who is she-”

Byul hung up. She knew that she’d probably get scolded as soon as she got home for even doing so. The woman hated when she hung up the phone. 

She had to know more about Hwasa before logic caught up to her and prevented the onslaught of curiosity rushing through her veins. Byul stood up, turned around and nearly bumped into another person.

“You’re in a hurry?” It was Hwasa.

“You came back,” Byul said almost the same time. Realizing what just happened, they chuckled at each other. 

“So where are you headed to?”

“Ah,” Byul smiled. “I was going to find you.

Hwasa’s eyes widened before she broke into a shy grin. “You were? Why?”

“To look at boring dresses with me? Or gaze at more depressing paintings?” Byul chuckled. “I find I enjoy your company.”

“Well, I have a better idea if you want to get out of this museum,” Hwasa smirked. 

“Anything would sound better.”

Hwasa laughed. “There’s a carnival just on the other side of the city. Near midpark.”

“A what?” Byul raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"A carnival,” she giggled sheepishly. “You mentioned earlier that you’d rather go there, and I just remembered,” she waved her hand awkwardly. “So, you wanna go?”

Byul felt a grin stretch her cheeks. “Are you asking me out?”

Hwasa scoffed, but her smile betrayed her amusement. “Do you not know subtlety?”

“You’re not from here, are you?” She asked suddenly, Byul didn’t have to ask. She already knew, anyway.

She blinked. “What gave me away? Accent?”

Byul smirked. “No. Because you don’t know who I am. If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t ask me out.”

Hwasa seemed taken aback for a moment before she laughed. Her eyes crinkled at the corners that were all-angles endearing for Byul. “Ohhh,” she teased. “All this time, am I speaking to a superstar or something? Well, where are your fans?”

“Come here,” Byul gently took her hand and pulled her nearer. She whispered conspiratorially and pointed to the random people mingled amongst the museum. True enough, there were men amongst the crowd of guests wearing black suits and looking quite suspicious.

Her bodyguards. 

“Those are my fans. They watch over me 24/7.”

Hwasa seemed to catch on. She gaped. “Wait, are you the president’s daughter?”

Byul chuckled. “Something like that.”

“I thought you were the Creatives from your department.”

“Well, you wouldn't be so comfortable with me if I said otherwise,” Byul winked.

“Oh, forgive me for acting so familiar then, your highness,” Hwasa teased, mock-bowing and making Byul, once again, laugh.

“No, don’t,” Byul smiled. “You… you were a breath of fresh air.”

Hwasa smiled back. “So, now that I know who you are—”

“—Hardly—”

“—Kind of. I’m still asking you out.”

Byul raised her eyebrow coyly. “You don’t have class tomorrow?”

Hwasa laughed, gaping in disbelief. “How did you even know I’m a uni student?”

Byul scrunched her nose, smirking playfully at her. “You stink of instant noodles.”

Laughing, Hwasa gently took Byul’s arm and raised a finger to her lips. “Come on, I know a secret exit. We’ll lose your fans that way.”

With no more than giggles, they rushed through the intersecting hallways of the large museum, avoiding the gaze of Byul’s entourage. The moment they reached a secluded and almost deserted area of the museum, they were breathless and laughing—like children playing hide-and-seek. 

Byul couldn’t remember the last time she acted this carefree and childish. There was an ear-splitting grin on her face as she paused to catch their breath.

“You’re crazy,” she said.

Hwasa winked. She looked absolutely ethereal under the warm overhead lights of the museum. They were in the artifacts section filled with aisles of ancient silverware.

“And you are terribly out-of-shape,” Hwasa teased as Byul panted.

Byul rolled her eyes, then looked around the room. “Looks like no one’s interested in looking at their ancient grandmother’s kitchen utensils. Why are we here?”

Hwasa laughed, then slyly pointed at the balcony across the room. They walked side-by-side, exiting through the balcony where the expanse of the museum’s backyard can be seen, along with the hedge maze that zigzagged throughout the landscape. 

“Jump,” Hwasa said, a thrilled grin on her face.

“What?” Byul peered down the balcony. A mountain of dried leaves was gathered at the bottom, but she doubted it’ll break her fall. “No way. That'll break some bones.”

Hwasa shook her head, giggling. “No, it won't. Here, I’ll go first.”

“Wait, Hwasa, don—” Before Byul could finish her sentence, Hwasa climbed over the ledge and gracefully leapt. Byul rushed over to the edge the same time she heard a loud rustle of leaves.

She peered over the ledge and saw Hwasa laughing at the bottom, lying down on the large bed of dried leaves and looking absolutely in her element. Her long wavy hair formed a halo around her head, and her cheeks flushed red with excitement and glee. She opened her eyes and met Byul’s gaze from above.

Hwasa smirked. “Come on, Byul. Fall for me.”

Byul’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t need any more convincing. Climbing over the ledge shakily, she cursed herself for completely losing her mind and took a leap of faith.

It was exhilarating. 

After the moment of sheer terror at feeling nothing below her feet, she was caught by the soft autumn leaves. It was exhilarating—the way her heart stopped, the way her mind told her repeatedly that she was going to die, only to be embraced by safety once again.

Byul stared wide-eyed at the sky above her. The afternoon was already seeping into the sky. She could feel everything. The rustle of the leaves, branches poking at her side, the slight throbbing of the scratches on her skin no doubt from the sticks protruding on the surface, and the gentle, glittering laugher of the woman beside her.

Hwasa suddenly came into her field of vision, upside-down. Her hair cascading down around them like a curtain. Byul couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe and free. The daughter of the City King, the most feared man in the city, running in museums, jumping over balconies and playing with leaves. It sounded and looked absolutely hilarious—and yet, her heart throbbed with longing for a childhood that was stolen. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Hwasa teased, poking her cheeks. Then she stood up and outstretched a hand to help Byul stand.

Byul gazed at the hand and then to the expectant face of Hwasa. Was this the hand that would take her out of this nightmare?

Just like the exhilarating, breathless sensation, she felt jumping from the balcony, Byul felt all the air punched from her lungs just looking at Hwasa. 

She couldn’t have fallen. No way it was this easy. It couldn’t have been this easy.

Couldn’t it?

&  
  


“A helicopter?” Hwasa asked, an amused smile on her face. “We went through the trouble of sneaking away from your ‘fans’ only for you to run back to them?”

Byul rolled her eyes. “Well, how do you propose we get to the other side of the city?”

Hwasa laughed. “We take the train. Or is that not part of your vocabulary, oh-so-very famous person?”

Byul scrunched her nose. No, public transportation was not an option. It would open her to too many risks, and not to mention, Yongsun would wring her head if she found out. And she would definitely find out. 

Publicly, the families weren’t notorious for their crimes. However, still owning the most prosperous legal businesses in the industry would still earn anyone a hefty, prestigious reputation. To common, law-abiding citizens, Moon Byulyi was the CEO of Moon Creatives and the daughter of one of the two richest business conglomerate owners in the whole city, Moon Jin-ho.

“Well, unless you want to become the face of tomorrow’s tabloids, then sure, why not?”

Hwasa blinked in disbelief. “Are you _really_ that famous?”

Byul shrugged. “You don’t wanna know. Besides, everyone likes a good gossip.”

Seemingly thinking something over, Hwasa began to rummage through the closet of the museum’s storage shed that they found themselves hiding in. “Found it!”

Byul peered over her shoulder curiously. In the woman’s grasp were an orange wig and a pair of fake glasses.

“Your disguise, your highness.”

Byul caught the wig and looked at it questioningly. “I don’t know who’s head this has been on.”

“Nothing a good hair-day at the salon can’t fix,” Hwasa smirked, crossing her arms. “Try it on.”

Sighing, Byul fitted it on her head and then donned the thick eye-glasses. When she presented herself to Hwasa, the woman was snickering quietly.

“I look ridiculous.”

“No, no,” Hwasa snickered. “I think it suits you, carrot-head. You look like a different person. I hardly recognized you,” she said sarcastically.

“Hardy-har-har.”

Hwasa went to the back once again, hidden by the tall storage closets. In the meantime, Byul looked at herself in a broken mirror. She didn’t look as weird as she thought. Maybe she should dye her hair orange and cut it shoulder-length.

“Let’s go.”

Byul looked towards Hwasa and saw the woman bring out a single bike. She was also wearing a bright playful grin on her face as if she already knew that Byul would complain. 

“I still think the helicopter is more practical.”

Hwasa rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, we poor folks can’t afford our own private helicopters. And besides, for a famous and rich person like you, there’s only one kind of date I can take you on.”

Byul frowned. “What?”

“The most normal one you’ll have in your lifetime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long-ass chapter! Lemme know what you guys think and leave comment below <3 Anyway, this story will really be plot-heavy, filled with drama, deception and romance. So if you like that kinda stuff, do keep reading! I'll update soon ciao!


	5. The World's a Carnival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains mature content. Children look away, go stream Maria!

They rode the rusty bicycle until they reached the subway. Upon Hwasa’s insistence, Byul had pedalled them through the sidewalks of the bustling town as Hwasa rode on the back, hugging her tightly from behind. 

Byul couldn’t remember the last time she had ridden a bicycle. It was a surprise her legs even remembered how to drive one. It was uplifting to ride a bike through this city that she knew so well. The view was different from the one she usually saw through the window of her car. 

She was able to see the buildings better, for one. She hadn’t known they were so humongous. The skyline was also littered with screens and lights. The sound of honking cars and the constant chatter of the crowd walking by. The onslaught of different scents—both pleasant and unpleasant.

She didn’t know the city could ever feel so… real for her. Like she was part of it, rushing through its veins, alive and thumping—unlike the godlike position she normally had, towering over it and looking through the glass windows of her high-rise building. 

They reached the subway in no time, and Hwasa carelessly left the rusty bike on the sidewalk as they descended the stairs. This was the first time Byul was in close quarters with so many people. For a moment, she felt exposed. She felt vulnerable until she noticed that not one eye was on her, not one mouth talked about her, and not one ear was available to hear her. For once, these people minded their business so much that they couldn’t spare her a single glance.

It felt nice—to suddenly be invisible, to suddenly feel like no one. For once in her life, Byul felt like she didn’t have to do anything, and that for once, she could be anyone. She could be a university student, living a simple life, and going out on a simple date with a truly extraordinary woman.

When they walked out of the subway—the shoulders of everyone bumping against Byul’s and everyone passing her by as if she was of no consequence—Byul felt like she was somewhere she truly belonged. An odd thought, but the feeling in her chest wasn’t.

While she gawked at her surroundings, remembering every extremely normal detail, Hwasa had steadily guided her through the crowd while holding her hand.

They emerged out of the subway and into a park where the visiting carnival was set-up. Children and their parents were already roaming around, teenagers playing with their friends, and couples holding hands. The neon lights were turned on as the sun began to set on the horizon, drenching them in a ray of orange that blended quite well with the shade of her wig. 

The carnival rides filled her vision with constant, chaotic motion and the sound of the rhythmic jingles that accompanied them filled the space with energy.

“So, how was your little field trip through normalcy?” Hwasa smiled knowingly.

“How did you know I needed that?”

Hwasa smirked, leaning closer to her to whisper. “I told you, people’s expressions show everything. So, which ride you wanna go on first?”

&

They rode on every ride there was—even the ones for children, despite the disapproving looks from the parents when they saw two giggling adults amongst the sea of their kids. The sun set and the moon rose, and as the night grew deeper, more people arrived at the carnival. Soon, they couldn’t move an inch without bumping into someone else.

The lights had flickered endlessly and the laughter never ceased. It was two hours before midnight when Byul found themselves sitting at a bench some meters away from the carnival, both wearing the silliest hats they could find, arms filled with stuffed toys they won from the booths, and hands holding their freshly-cooked corn dogs and milkshakes.

They were laughing. Hwasa’s head tiredly leaning against Byul’s shoulder as they watched the commotion before them.

“Why won’t you tell me the truth? I know you cheated,” Byul teasingly accused.

“I didn’t!”

“No way you are that good at shooting,” Byul scoffed, snuggling the large teddy bear Hwasa had won for her in one of the booths as proof of the woman’s apparent expertise in shooting toy ducks. Or in Byul’s argument, cheating. 

“I am that good,” Hwasa boasted.

“How?” Byul argued in disbelief, recalling how graceful and effortless Hwasa had won the games. A crowd had actually formed around her to watch her play. Safe to say, the game stands of the carnival had a very unlucky night with her around. “That was insane. I have never seen anyone shoot like that.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you in on a secret,” Hwasa conceded, curving a finger towards her so that Byul would lean closer. She did and Hwasa whispered, “Because I was inspired by you.”

Byul snorted and nudged the other woman’s shoulder playfully. Hwasa laughed.

“But honestly,” Hwasa shrugged. “I used to take archery classes.”

“Ah! Knew it. You had formal training. No one could be that talented out of nowhere.”

“I could have been a prodigy, you know,” Hwasa shrugged.

Byul looked at her dubiously that earned her a soft punch to the shoulder. The brunette shook her head, before taking a large bite of her corn dog. Byul watched her eat, finding the way the food filled her cheeks incredibly adorable.

“You’re a good eater,” Byul commented.

Hwasa rolled her eyes. “Everyone tells me that.”

“Well, it’s true. Seeing you eat makes me want to eat whatever you’re eating.”

Hwasa pointedly looked at the untouched corn dog in Byul’s hands. “Then eat!”

“I haven’t eaten one of these before.”

Hwasa looked disbelievingly. “You are not that rich.”

Byul laughed. “Maybe I am. The portion of this corndog is a lot. It’s kinda overwhelming.”

“Oh right, rich people like ridiculously small portions bought for a ridiculously expensive price.” Hwasa scrunched her nose in distaste. “In my experience, normal people's food is the best. Try it.”

“I’m afraid to take a bite. It’s so greasy.”

Hwasa sat up straight and Byul immediately missed having her warmth pressed against her shoulder. “Eat it!”

“I can’t. My stomach’s still acting up from that last ride we rode,” Byul felt the acid rise to her throat once again at the reminder of that irritating octopus-ride that almost had her spilling her guts.

Hwasa giggled. “You enjoyed it though, right?”

Byul couldn’t stop the smile from spreading to her lips even if she wanted to. “I think it’s more to do with the company than the carnival rides.”

Hwasa grinned. She looked beautiful with neon lights playing against her face. Byul was almost tempted to close the distance between them, just to see if she could taste those colours on her lips.

“How about this?” Hwasa’s smile turned coy as she noticed just where Byul’s eyes gazed on. “If you take a bite of that corn dog, I’ll kiss you.”

Byul smirked, lifting the corn dog to her lips and taking a large bite. As soon as the flavour hit her tongue though, she forgot all about the deal. “Wow.”

Hwasa laughed. “Right?”

“Can we get more of these?”

&

They were walking casually along the dimly lit streets when Byul’s watch struck midnight. They had been strolling around aimlessly after the fireworks at the carnival, talking about literally everything and getting to know each other—except for Byul talking about who she really is, of course.

They entered a narrow convenience store and bought a couple of cup noodles and bottles of soju. Byul paid at the counter, upon Hwasa’s insistence. According to her, so Byul could experience buying and falling in line like a normal person. 

Climbing the stairs towards Hwasa’s small apartment, the sound of clinking bottles from the paper bag Byul was holding rivalled their loud voices as they chatted energetically.

Hwasa opened the door to her apartment. It was neat and cosy, filled with fluffy pillows and thick sheets. Almost every surface had a pillow on top of it. The apartment smelled of flowers and caffeine. It suited Hwasa— this small but charming home. 

They filled their instant noodles with hot water, grabbed some pillows and a blanket and positioned themselves right outside Hwasa’s door in the balcony hallway. 

The balcony hallway was narrow with one side facing the city, bordered by a metal ledge. They sat there like a little picnic, their backs leaning on the wall and their feet dangling off the edge. In their position, they could see the night sky, the moon and the bustling lights of the city, but they were far enough that it was quiet and peaceful.

“I have to say you’re right,” Byul suddenly said as she slurped and finished her noodles.

“What am I right about?” Hwasa said through a mouthful of corn dogs. 

In the dim light, she looked so innocent and young. Byul thought Hwasa was the epitome of everything she wished for in life—freedom and simplicity. 

“Normal people's food is the best,” she replied. “Unhealthy chemicals, additives and preservatives are the best ingredients hands-down.”

Hwasa laughed, shaking her head. “Damn right. Having small portions of food is what’s going to kill you sooner.”

They sat there for a while to rest, their heads against each other as they drank the soju quietly. “Do you find it weird?” Hwasa suddenly asked.

“What?”

“That ten hours ago, I was a stranger to you. That we just spent ten hours together and now it feels like…. How the hell did I just meet you now?” Hwasa wondered, her voice soft and quiet.

In a way, Byul felt the same. Being with Hwasa, she was free to become anyone she wanted to be. She didn’t know about Byul’s sins, about everything wrong in her life, and so she was able to become who she always wanted to be. Someone normal, someone kind and good and carefree and happy, someone that Hwasa could like. 

Byul blinked. “We’ve been together for ten hours?”

Hwasa giggled. “Crazy, right?”

“Yongsun’s going to kill me,” Byul muttered, afraid to even look at her phone in fear of the messages and calls her sister would’ve left for her. 

“Who?”

“My sister. I hung up on her earlier and forgot to text back,” Byul sighed, shifting in preparation to leave. “I had things to do today, too. She’s going to have my head.”

They sat up straight. 

Hwasa nodded. “You should probably go, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you want to?”

“No, not really,” she smiled softly.

“Well, you have my phone number,” Hwasa urged her gently and Byul conceded, kneeling so she could stand up. “Go on then, before your sister calls for a manhunt.”

“Alright, alright,” Byul said, pausing to look at Hwasa seriously. “We’re going to do this again.”

“Of course. You already know where I live.”

They stared at each other. The light of the moon shining on the side of Hwasa’s face. Again, Byul wondered if the moonlight would taste heavenly on the woman’s lips. She found herself leaning closer before she paused. 

No, not tonight. She wouldn’t be able to leave if she even attempted to close the distance. Instead, Byul smiled and stood up. 

But before she could even get to her feet, she felt Hwasa’s strong hand grip her shoulders and drag her back to the ground. It was all in a blink of an eye, and suddenly, her face was inches from Hwasa. Their warm breaths mingling in the cold air between them. They were frozen in place. Byul’s widened eyes searching Hwasa’s face as Hwasa herself gazed at the older woman’s lips, almost in a daze. 

And then their eyes met, Hwasa smiled tenderly and Byul already knew what came next was inevitable. There was only one way for them to end a day as beautiful as this. It was calling to them all day, this sensation. 

Without another word, Byul let her eyes flutter close as their lips met in a deep and passionate kiss. She kneeled over the smaller girl, her arms supporting her so that she wouldn’t crush Hwasa as the woman anchored herself by wrapping her arms around Byul’s shoulders. 

Byul unbiddenly let out a soft moan in response to Hwasa playing with the hair at the nape of her neck. The sound seemed to spur Hwasa on as she pressed her lips firmer, slipping her tongue in between the older woman’s teeth and tasted her. 

They both tasted of the saltiness of the food they just ate and the intoxicating flavour of the alcohol they consumed. Yet in the midst of it all these flavours, for Byul, the woman under her tasted sweet and delicate. Like a flower—a strong flower that endured storms and wild winds. 

She loved how Hwasa tasted. 

Every sensation was amplified the deeper the kiss grew. Byul could feel Hwasa’s smooth and warm skin against her cold fingers, sending shudders up her spine; she could feel the softness of her cheeks and the small sound she made when their bodies touched.

Their lungs were crying out for air, and yet they couldn’t separate until it was physically impossible for them to continue. They broke apart, inches away from each other with swollen lips and dazed eyes, their heartbeat resounding like broken drums against their ears. They were breathless and panting. 

Byul’s question was answered. The moonlight did taste heavenly slathered on Hwasa’s lips.

“I—” Hwasa tried to say, still gasping for air. “We had a deal.”

“What?” Byul could hardly comprehend anything after that intense kiss.

“If you ate the corn dog, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Byul breathed out a chuckle. She completely forgot about that. “I think I ate a dozen corn dogs.”

A playful smirk appeared on Hwasa’s swollen lips. “Then I owe you a dozen of kisses.”

“But I have to go,” Byul said jokingly, earning a pinch from the woman still under her. “Unless you have more normal things to show me.”

Hwasa gripped the collar of Byul’s shirt and pulled her closer. A smile played on her lips. “Have you ever had a sleepover?”

&

They stumbled inside Hwasa’s small quarters. Their backs occasionally hit the corners and walls as they blindly made their way to Hwasa’s room. They gripped each other tightly, their fingers no doubt leaving bruises to see in the mirror come tomorrow morning. 

They wouldn’t let go of each other for any other reason than to gasp for air. The sounds of their excitement and desire echoing against the walls of her small apartment. When they finally opened the door after much fumbling, Byul grasped Hwasa’s golden thighs, wrapped them around her hips and carried her inside. 

Both of their weights combined causing them to fall clumsily on the bed.

They got rid of the clothes quickly, almost desperately. In no time, she was tasting more of the girl than she ever dreamed to that day. All golden skin and salty sweat. Moaning sounds and cries of her name. It had never sounded so wonderful than hearing it come from Hwasa’s desperate lips and husky voice. 

Soon they were drenched in nothing but each other’s scent; drenched in the heat of their passionate movements contrasting with the chilly air—drenched in moonlight and darkness.

They were reduced to writhing silhouettes as they refused to let any space come in between them. They arched against each other, crying out their pleasure—unbidden and unrestrained. 

Finally, they fell against each other, still and breathless. Pale skin against sun-kissed ones. Dark hair mingling together. Fingers gripping the headboard and clenching the bedsheets before finally intertwining with one another.

Byul laid her head on top of Hwasa’s naked chest, her quick breath creating moisture on the woman’s skin as if the sweat running down on it wasn’t enough. Her hips lying comfortably in between Hwasa’s legs, their wetness mixing together. 

Byul raised her head, crossing her arms above Hwasa’s chest and resting her chin on top. She gazed at Hwasa’s flushed face. The woman had her eyes closed. If it weren’t for the constant and quick fall and rise of her laboured breathing, Byul would’ve thought Hwasa had fallen asleep.

This woman was a goddess. Tonight was enough proof.

Byul was desperately and shamelessly spellbound by everything about her. She couldn’t get enough of her taste—the reminder awakened her once again, and Byul reached up to land a soft kiss on Hwasa’s swollen lips.

Hwasa’s eyes fluttered open, and they smiled at each other.

“Y’know,” Byul started, her throat parched and raw from every sound ripped from her vocal cords. “Rich people have sex, too. It’s not all that ‘normal’,” she teased.

Hwasa laughed, wrapping her arms around Byul’s neck. “Yeah, but rich people don’t have intense fucking in a small apartment with paper-thin walls where the neighbours could no doubt hear. every. sinful. sound,” she said huskily, her teeth gently nibbling at Byul’s earlobes to punctuate each word.

Byul flushed at the realization that their little escapade was made a show for some stranger, and yet the thought of someone else hearing them caused her desire to awaken once again. Without another word, she sealed their lips in another kiss.

She couldn’t get enough of her. The small laughs they shared after every moan that was accidentally too loud, the way she touched her, her husky voice whispering sins against her ear—Byul couldn’t get enough of her. Her smile, laugh, and her wit that outpaced even Byul’s.

Her confidence—She just couldn’t get enough of Hwasa.

So she had her. Throughout the night, pausing for a breath and then falling asleep with their limbs intertwined like pretzels, only for them to stir in the early hours of the morning, and Byul had her again. Again and again. She had her every way possible.


	6. Of Faces and Masks

“Where the hell have you been?” Yongsun’s furious voice greeted her the moment the older woman stepped inside her office. “You disappeared for two days!”

Byul decided to ignore her, too distracted by the woman she was messaging on her phone. She was in the middle of a very amusing conversation. She couldn’t believe they were only separated for a few hours and Byul was already craving her.

“Can you look away from your phone for a second? Have you regressed to a teenager?” Yongsun’s hands appeared over the screen and snatched the phone from Byul's hands. “Give me tha—”

“What the hell, Yong. Give that back—” she snatched the phone back.

Byul was suddenly reminded of their childhood. They loved snatching things from each other. She was too late this time though as Yongsun had already glimpsed at her text messages.

“Who was that?” Yongsun put her hands on her hips.

Oh no, she was in her ‘Interrogating Mother’ mode. That was never a good thing. 

“Was that the university student you asked me to check?”

“And what if it was?’ Byul answered defensively.

“You were with her these past two days,” Yongsun said flatly, not at all seeming the least surprised.

They were. After the normal date they had and the passionate night that followed after, Byul couldn’t find the strength to leave Hwasa on her bed. Every time she attempted to go, the tantalizing woman would do everything in her power to seduce her back into bed—or on every nearby surface. Besides being incredibly charming and captivating, Byul found out that Hwasa was also very tempting. 

They got to know each other a lot these past two days being cooped up in Hwasa’s small apartment. If Hwasa was willing to skip a few classes for her, then Byul couldn’t find a reason for her not to skip and forget the godforsaken life she hated so much for a few hours. 

Byul had to admit though. While sex had been the highlight of their time together, she also enjoyed the simple moments when they watched movies in bed or cooked in Hwasa’s kitchen. For a moment, Byul indulged herself in the fantasy that she wasn’t a murderer or a Moon. She wasn’t a billionaire’s daughter and her life wasn’t in constant risk, no thanks to the illegality that her family dipped their toes in. 

She was just a normal person, completely smitten with the most addicting woman she had ever met. Byul could spend hours naked and wrapped in her embrace. They could be lazy together, chatting until the early hours of the day. There wouldn’t be any consequences. No one needed her to be anywhere; no one needed her to be anyone than just herself.

For those two days, Byul fooled herself. She realized that she loved living a fantasy than the reality that was handed to her. She realized she didn’t mean to stay with Hwasa for two days, just that she couldn’t leave.

“I was,” she said as if challenging Yongsun.

“I need to know who she is.”

“I met her at the museum, we went out and I like her,” Byul answered simply.

Yongsun rolled her eyes.

“Well, we’re two days behind the wedding gown design because you had your fun,” Yongsun accused. “Fashion week is next week. Time to get back to work.”

“No need. I finished the design.” Byul smirked as she saw Yongsun’s surprised expression. “You shouldn’t expect any less of me, unnie. I might be fooling around, but I always get things done.”

“Smug brat,” Yongsun mumbled. “Good job, but you still missed appointments. A dozen of them. I’ll start lining them up for you,” she smiled sarcastically.

“I can’t this afternoon.”

“Why? Are two days of unplanned vacation not enough?” Yongsun glared. “And Father’s been asking for you. I can only cover for you for so long.”

At the mention of her father, Byul felt her chest constrict. She had to fall in line, had to follow her father’s demands, had to be a good dau—

Hwasa’s laughing face suddenly flitted in her mind. No, she wanted to see that woman. She needed to. Byul was already addicted to her presence.

“I’m going to meet Hwas—”

Yongsun raised a hand to stop her. “I thought this was a one-time thing. It’s not over?”

“No,” Byul crossed her arms. “Definitely not.”

Yongsun raised an eyebrow. “Well, when is it going to be over?”

“I don’t know. Does it have to?”

Yongsun raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. You tell me. Does she know who you are?”

Byul didn’t answer. 

“Yeah, I thought so. She’s a civilian. A university student probably with a bright future ahead of her,” Yongsun nagged in that way that reminded Byul of a mother if she still had one. “You get involved with her and she gets involved in all of this.”

She couldn’t deny that everything Yongsun said was true. In reality, Hwasa wasn’t her saviour. She wasn’t the Messiah Byul hoped she would be.

If this goes somewhere serious, it’s either Hwasa leaves her in fear and disgust of who Byul really is, or she joins her in this misery. Byul could at least admit that she hated the thought of the latter much more than the former.

But she just can’t let go of her yet. Every fibre of her being was calling out the woman’s name. 

Byul hid her distress with an emotionless expression. “That’s why I want her. She represents everything I want that I can’t have—she’s just an escape. If I can’t have the real thing, then the illusion will do.”

“That’s what they all say at first,” Yongsun said dubiously.

Byul scoffed. “She’s useful to me only when she’s ‘normal.’ I keep her in a little bubble, away from all of this,” she gestures to the building surrounding them. “No worries for you, and I get to have my stress-reliever.”

Ironically, her mind was mocking her. She was so different from when she was with Hwasa. 

The words itched on Byul’s tongue. It didn’t feel right to degrade Hwasa like this when she worshipped the woman day and night for the past two days. No, for Byul, she was more than just some plaything. 

She meant it, however, how she wanted to keep Hwasa away from all of it—after all, why would she ever taint her only sanctuary from the madness that was her life?

Yongsun shook her head. “Alright. But if you play with fire, you get burned.”

“Once I have enough, she’s gone. You don’t have to worry about this.”

They stared each other down, Byul looking as determined as her sister. 

In the end, Yongsun conceded with a sigh. “I just want what’s best for you, Byul.”

Byul smiled sadly. “And what is that exactly, unnie?”

Her older sister remained silent, seemingly conflicted. They didn’t know the answer. What was right and wrong, best from worst, it was all the same thing. It was how they were raised.

Yongsun shook her head. “Well if she’s going to be a reoccurring thing, then we need to talk about this. No disappearing for two days, especially since we’re on high alert since the ambush.”

“Deal. I promise to cooperate,” Byul agreed seriously. There was a pause as the topic revived itself. “Any updates on that?”

Yongsun shook her head gravely. “They’ve cleaned up their trail nicely, we don’t have any leads on that.”

“Check on anyone we had a riff with, no matter how minor. Have our spies check every warehouse and ship cargo within the city. We’ll make them pay,” Byul said in a tone laced with frustration.

Yongsun observed her sister—how the younger woman’s expression tightened when it came to business, opposite of how casual she looked a few minutes ago. How could she ever say ‘no’ to Byul’s happiness when she sees her so unhappy every day?

“I’ll get our men on it and keep you updated,” Yongsun nodded, noting it on her phone. “In the meantime… this afternoon is the last one. No more until after Fashion Week, got it?”

Byul’s face immediately lightened and that’s when Yongsun realized she was going to have to play along with whatever game her sister wanted. She was still so young after all.

“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes I wonder who really runs this place. Is it you or me?”

Yongsun rolled her eyes, a smile on her face. They were masters at avoiding hard questions, it seems. They always felt the need to make the conversation lighter. Who could blame them? The closer to the truth they went, the more suffocating it gets.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle the truth,” Yongsun jokes.

&

“You’re causing a scene,” Hwasa deadpanned as she saw a limousine parked in front of her university building and a smug Byul leaning against it. “I thought you didn’t want to get noticed by anyone.”

Byul smirked, running her fingers through her newly blonde hair. “I dyed my hair. It’s going to take them a few minutes to recognize me, so you better climb in now,” she said while opening the door to the sleek car.

Hwasa fidgeted, consciously looking at the crowd beginning to form around them.

“Tick-tock,” Byul smirked.

Hwasa glared playfully before she climbed inside and Byul followed. When the doors closed, the older woman quickly leaned in for a chaste kiss, earning a surprised squeak from the girl beneath her.

When they broke apart, Hwasa’s lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed. 

“I hate being the centre of attention and you just made me the talk of the campus,” Hwasa raised an eyebrow.

Byul chuckled. “What do you mean? You catch the attention of any room you walk into.”

Hwasa rolled her eyes, but her lips tweaked at the edges with a smile.

“Where do you wanna go?” Byul asked. “We can go anywhere.”

Hwasa pursed her lips, as if in contemplation, before she broke into a wide grin and straddled Byul’s hips. A seductive smile played on her lips, a stunning contrast from the embarrassed girl earlier. She loved it when Hwasa transformed into the confidence temptress she got well-acquainted within those two days together.

“I was thinking… my apartment,” Hwasa smirked.

Byul chuckled, running her palms across Hwasa’s golden thighs that have managed to escape her black skirt. “I was thinking the same thing.”

They both giggled before their lips were silenced by a passionate kiss.

&

Hyejin observed the sleeping woman beside her. After years of studying her every movement, researching her, Byul wasn’t at all like she imagined.

She saw her on tabloids. A confident woman—stoic when she had to command a room, charming when she had to win people’s favours. Hyejin knew she was intelligent, her responses on interviews and the way she carried herself said as much. She wasn’t royalty, but she was regal in every way.

Hyejin should’ve hated her. She was the heiress of her family’s murderer, thriving on the stolen wealth of Hyejin’s family.

But she never did. 

Whenever Hyejin saw her on the television before, she looked so powerful. But all Hyejin could see was the fifteen-year-old girl in her white dress, looking as lost as she did, and breaking traditions as she apologized to Hyejin at her family’s funeral. 

Hyejin knows it’s the reason why she was never angry with this woman despite the hatred in her heart for her father. It was because of that day—her family’s funeral and the day she met Byul.

She could see that Byul hadn’t recognized her, probably forgotten about the exchange altogether. But these past few days of spending time with the older woman, she realized that the girl who apologized to her that day was trapped somewhere beneath all the walls Byul’s father had surrounded her in—and that girl was screaming for freedom.

As an assassin, she was trained to get a good read on people and she was reading Byul like an open book.

Hyejin wasn’t the only one wearing a mask after all, except she couldn’t help but feel like Byul’s wasn’t a lie. 

It surprised Hyejin that she genuinely enjoyed her. 

The Byul she met wasn’t the heiress of the city or a criminal mastermind. She met a vibrant woman in her late twenties, who had a sharp wit that made her smile and laugh. While Hyejin was pretending to be someone else these past few days, all of her expressions, emotions and her words were… authentic.

They almost seemed… normal.

She could stay with her for two days and she’d be content. Hyejin definitely didn’t feel any affection for the woman, after all, Byul was still part of her plan, but at the very least she enjoyed Byul’s company.

Hyejin didn’t plan to get so intimate with her, but things had progressed so naturally that Hyejin had to play along. She couldn’t break the illusion, especially since the lie had become so good. There was no way that she didn’t have Byul wrapped around her fingers now.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t get any pleasure out of it.

She ran her gaze across Byul’s silky white and slender back. Oh, Hyejin definitely enjoyed it. Why wouldn’t she? The woman was gorgeous.

Hyejin slipped her fingers through the woman’s smooth, blonde hair and inhaled her minty scent before she stood up in all her naked glory.

Hyejin shook on her golden silk robe before stepping out her door and into the balcony. She played with her cellphone for a while before she dialled a number she knew by heart.

The first ring wasn’t even over when someone picked up.

A velvety voice greeted her. _“About time you slipped back into my radar, my love. It baffles me how you do it.”_

Hyejin smirked, breathing out a chuckle that translated into smoke against the night’s cold air. “I wouldn’t be a very successful assassin if I couldn’t at least do that.”

_“Oh, I know well what you’re capable of. Now, pray tell, did you have fun with your new best friend, darling?”_

“Of course. I’ve gotten her to trust me.”

The man laughed. _“Already? Can’t expect anything less from my beautiful rose. Indulge me, how did you do it? That woman suspects even a fly.”_

Hyejin felt her lips smile at the description. Even now that Hyejin was at least confident the woman didn’t suspect her, Byul refused to fall asleep. It was the same thing the two days prior. 

Today, Hyejin had to drug the woman to get her to sleep, or else she would never let her guard down.

“Nothing clever, unfortunately. Just some girl bonding. If she isn’t who she is, I would’ve thought she was desperate to have a friend,” Hyejin said nonchalantly. “You were right. She is an easy target.”

_“All lonely people are. Poor, poor girl.”_

“Let’s put her out of her misery then.”

_“Oh, we will, darling. Soon.”_

Hyejin sighed, spinning around to peer at the open door of her bedroom. “Not soon enough.”

The man on the phone burst out into laughter, his deep voice vibrating through her speakers. What a charming laugh, it could fool anyone, Hyejin thought.

_“So impatient, but that’s why I love you.”_

Hyejin smirked, pulling the phone closer to her lips almost conspiratorially. “And I love you, Andrew.”


	7. The Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of violence here, only mildly though. So just a heads up! Hope you guys like this one ;)

_I can’t wait to see you again._

“Byul!”

Moon Byul-yi’s head snapped upwards. Her gaze was stolen from the screen of her mobile phone to meet Yongsun’s irate expression.

“I need you to focus tonight,” her older adoptive sister reminded her.

Byul put on her cool facade immediately, smirking and hiding away the concern she wore earlier upon receiving the message.

_I can’t wait to see you again._

Hwasa had randomly texted her this afternoon before Byul left for Fashion Week. They had made a rule not to communicate with each other for the remainder of the week. It was Hwasa’s midterms and Byul’s busiest week. They couldn’t afford any distractions. So far, they had succeeded not contacting the other until this morning when Hwasa left her a text.

Byul had replied but got nothing back from the woman. 

It wasn’t even a suspicious message and yet Byul couldn’t stop reading it over again and again.

Why this particular day? Why wasn’t she replying back?

Her paranoia and meticulousness were driving her mind insane.

“Are you with me?” Yongsun studied her. “Sharp and alert, that’s what Father said.”

At the mention of her father, like a soldier, Byul smirked and put her phone away. She’d deal with this later. 

“I know. You don’t need to remind me twice. Have I ever worried you, unnie?”

Yongsun scoffed. “Can’t believe you even have the nerve to ask me that,” she rolled her eyes before stepping out of the limousine.

They were greeted by the paparazzi, along with the non-stop flashing of the camera lights.

It was finally Fashion Week. The most awaited event for the whole city in the past decade. An unbroken tradition by all the city’s most prestigious families and individuals. Where business met with fashion and entertainment.

The Moon family had always hosted this event, as the only City Kings with a fashion business to laundry their illegal fortune.

However, this was the first year that Byul was on her own, her Father unable to attend. The entirety of the event rests on her shoulders.

Everything was glittering and shining in decadence. Everyone was smiling and waiting for her. Amongst the crowd were the most famous celebrities, the most powerful politicians, the most cunning businessmen and criminals.

She was entering the den of lions and wolves, all hungry for power, fame and opportunity. One wrong mistake, and they will tear her apart until there’s nothing left to exploit.

Moon Byul faced it with a confident smirk on her face as she sauntered into the luxurious event room, welcomed by roaring applause.

It was nothing she hadn’t prepared for her whole life, after all.

This was her playground. 

&

It was almost midnight and the event was in full swing. 

Yongsun handled the event’s program and other technicalities while Byul managed the socializing and the business. While most came for the fancy collections of the latest fashion trends, a lot of networking and business went on in the sidelines—both legal and illegal.

It was a night bursting of opportunities and only fools wouldn’t rise to the occasion.

In fact, the elusive museum director of Kingsland Museum had even attended. Byul had studied everyone present in the event and stumbled upon the woman’s profile, Byul was surprised that Park Wheein was almost their age and had come from the same foster family as Hwasa.

They were orphans it seemed.

At the sight of the beautiful girl in her silver dress, Byul suddenly felt the itch to approach her and ask about Hwasa.

So she did. Slithering through the crowd and patting the shoulders of those who greeted her, Byul soon found herself beside the woman.

“Ms. Park?” Byul greeted, surprising the woman who had flinched and uttered a slight squeak at the sudden intrusion of her space.

Park Wheein was a wallflower, it seemed. Sidling quietly at the edge of the room and watching the models while the rest of the people surrounding her fluttered like social butterflies.

Wheein turned to bow but froze on the spot upon seeing who it was in front of her.

“I visited the Kingsland Museum a week ago, I never got to meet you officially,” Byul greeted kindly. “I must commend your art pieces, you simply have the most breathtaking collections.”

A beat, two beats and three beats passed before Wheein shook herself from surprise and bowed before Byul, avoiding eye contact entirely.

“Ms Moon, it’s a privilege to meet you,” she stretched her hand, quickly shook Byul’s and then stuffed it into the pockets of her vest jacket.

Odd behavior, but Byul took it as shyness and intimidation if anything. 

“Please, call me Byul or Byul-yi.”

“Then please call me Wheein as well.”

“Where’s your table?” Byul peered over the woman’s shoulder, her heart leaping to her throat in expectation. Perhaps this was what the message meant. 

Wheein seemed to understand the look on the older woman’s eyes. She pointed towards the direction of a table filled with Andrew Mirren’s people.

Moon Byul’s heart deflated when she didn’t see the person she was looking for. No beautiful woman with the most tantalizing eyes, full lips and jet black hair anywhere.

What did she expect? Hwasa would never be part of their world.

“I think I should go back,” Wheein said meekly. “It was nice meeting you, Byul-yi.”

“Wheein,” Byul called out before the shy girl slipped away. “How’s our mutual friend, Ms. Hwasa?”

Byul could see the woman tense up, her eyes shifted as if contemplating on how to phrase her words. From the subtle gestures, Byul immediately understood that though Wheein might’ve been under Mirren’s thumb and had at least an inkling of what goes on behind the scenes, the smaller woman was far from having grit under her fingernails. 

She was merely a normal woman who had gotten hired under the wrong boss.

However, before Wheein could open her mouth, the host’s sultry voice blasted through the speakers and turned all heads towards the glamorously decorated stage at the head of the vast mansion’s garden.

And just like that, Wheein had managed to slip through Byul’s fingers amidst the split-second distraction. She was gone as soon as she came.

“Now, for the highlight of the evening, the latest bejewelled collections of Moonstar Creative!”

Before Byul could chase the woman, the bright spotlight turned to her and everyone was applauding.

Moon Byul composed herself, letting her eyes trail towards Wheein who had just sat down at her table, and then bowed and waved to the applauding crowd before making her way back to sit at her table just in front of the catwalk.

Stunning models adorning breathtaking bejewelled apparel paraded onto the glimmering surface of the catwalk. 

A presence sidled beside her. She already knew who it was. The City Kings and their guests were always seated in the same table as a gesture of good will.

A single blood-red rose slid in front of her by slender fingers riddled with gold rings.

“Congratulations on a marvellous event, as always, dear Byul-yi,” a smooth, velvet voice whispered beside her.

Byul turned her head and greeted the man with a cheeky smirk.

“Andrew Mirren already at his table this early in the evening? Unheard of,” Byul jested. “Tell me honestly, is it because your back is already hurting? I won’t tell anyone, on my grave.”

Andrew Mirren chuckled charmingly, waving his hands dismissively. “Ah yes, my bones aren’t just what they’re used to.”

Byul’s lips turned gracefully upwards into a smirk as she held her laughter in her chest. 

“Are you ready?” Byul asked, sipping her glass of champagne.

“I’ve been ready all my life.”

Byul rolled her eyes. The man had such dramatic flair, typical Mirren.

“No, to see your bride’s wedding gown.”

Andrew clapped his hands twice. “Ah, yes. Would you believe me if I said there are butterflies in my stomach right now? I’ve been anticipating it since this morning. I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve.”

Byul smirked. “I hope I don’t disappoint then.”

“I know you won’t,” Andrew returned his attention to the models. 

“Though the perfectionist in me feels like I could’ve made it better if I had at least an idea of who the bride is—her personality, aura,” Byul mused as they watched the models glide through the catwalk. “It is her wedding too, after all.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Andrew leaned into her playfully. “Fishing for information, aren’t you, Ms. Moon. Well, it’s not like you wouldn’t be invited to the wedding. That’ll be simply criminal—’

Moon Byul suddenly tuned out of the conversation as her eyes latched onto an approaching figure. A woman had strutted out of the mansion where the buffet and drinks were situated, wearing a red fitted dress that hugged her curves and exposed her sides through a thin and see-through fabric.

Everyone else was too distracted by the show, and although the woman was gorgeous, she had slinked into the venue like a thief in the night.

Byul was only able to notice her because she would’ve never missed those tantalizing eyes even in the midst of a crowd. The moment their gazes met, the world had paused and Byul’s lungs had ceased functioning.

_Why is she here?_

The logical part of Byul’s mind whispered. And if she wasn’t too focused on every detail on the woman’s figure—the low-neck cut of her dress exposing the valley of her breast and baring her slender neck and collarbones that were slathered in an expanse of sun-kissed skin—then Byul would’ve heard the alarm bells ringing in her head.

She and Byul’s world should’ve never collided.

And yet here she was. 

_Why?_

All too soon Byul’s question would be answered when the woman greeted not her with a kiss, but the man beside her.

Just like that, Byul’s veil of wonder shatters and the mask her father had created for her slipped into place automatically when she sees the woman’s lips align perfectly with Andrew Mirren’s.

Moon Byul’s mind was unable to process the sudden onslaught of information and emotion, and so the creature that was her father’s daughter went into auto-drive.

Byul smiled at the couple, but it did not reach her eyes. There was no other emotion on her face as she waited for the revelation as calm as her mind could conjure given the circumstance.

Mirren turned back to her, his arm wrapped securely around the woman’s waist.

“Moon Byul-yi, please meet my bride, Hyejin,” Andrew introduced them, with all the bravado that Byul used to admire but now hated. “My love, this is Ms. Byul-yi, the Moon heiress and my long-time friend.”

_Hyejin._

_My love._

_Bride._

Not one word slipped through Byul’s radar. She met the woman’s gaze once again, and suddenly, it was as if she was seeing a stranger.

“The pleasures all mine, Ms. Byul-yi,” Hyejin’s eyes twinkled, her lips smiling prettily at her. “Haven’t we met before?”

_Hwasa._

Byul’s blood boiled with anger. Her eyes hardened as she saw Hwasa—no—Hyejin’s eyes glint with recognition. It was her. The woman she spent her recent nights with and the one who made her laugh.

And she was someone else’s fiancee. No, not just someone else, _Mirren’s_ —the devil incarnate himself.

Byul let out an easy smile to mask her growing hatred. “I don’t think so. There is no way I would’ve forgotten such a beauty as yours.”

Hyejin giggled, patting Mirren’s chest. Byul caught the gesture, and for a moment, her smile faltered and her teeth grit together.

Mirren tsked at her. “Don’t go stealing my bride now, charmer,” he winked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the words were stuck in Byul’s throat like the knife that she wanted to impale on both their faces. “Congratulations on your engagement, the both of you. Please enjoy this night as an early gift from me.”

“You’ve got such kind friends, my love,” Hyejin commented, kissing the man’s cheek. Before turning back to Byul, “We will. It’s such a lovely event. I’m also thrilled to see the wedding gown. Do you have a hint for us, maybe?”

Byul smirked. “I wouldn't want to spoil the highlight of the night. You’d just have to wait and see.”

Byul couldn’t get a read on her. Hyejin’s eyes weren’t giving her anything, not a clue or an answer to what this all meant. In reality, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

A new player had entered Byul’s playground. Undetected, got under her skin and made herself known. It was a message loud and clear—she was a threat.

Andrew and her were perfect for each other alright. Deceptions cut from the same cloth.

Suddenly the past few days they spent together flashed through her head, the intimate moments, the laughter, the comfort she felt with _Hwasa_ , the message—

 _I can’t wait to see you again_.

So this was what she meant.

All of it… were fucking lies.

Fucking. lies.

Byul had been played. 

And she was seeing red, seething with anger and hatred. Under the table, her knuckles were pale-white from clenching them so tightly, a stark contrast to the deep red lines that formed where her nails bit harshly against her palm.

Her feet were tapping slowly, an omen to the wrath that was bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to behead Mirren there and then. Most of all, she wanted to shoot the woman she had almost, _almost_ , called her sanctuary. 

She let her guard down. She never should’ve. 

_What a fool._

On Byul’s lips, her smirk remains intact, if not a bit more sinister. Outwardly, her expression permitted none of the rage creeping under her skin. She couldn’t even look at Hyejin, knowing that the woman was studying her while whispering against Mirren’s ear.

Byul couldn’t even look at them. 

If she did, she wouldn’t just be ghosting over the gun resting on the inside of her vest coat. They’d be seeing bullets lodged into their brains before even glimpsing the wedding gown she had crafted.

Like on cue, a collective gasp flitted through the audience.

A model wearing a wedding gown suited for a goddess entered the catwalk. In all its glory, not even a queen would be worthy of wearing this masterpiece.

The way it glimmered under the light of the catwalk, it was almost as if it was made from pure starlight. The silver-white silk dress flowed down the ground like a canopy of water, a waterfall of elegance. The see-through lace collar hugged the neckline with blossoms of rubies at the edge where the neck and shoulder met. The chiffon fitted sleeves resembled that of a traditional Korean hanbok. Beyond that, the rest of the dress glittered with rubies stitched into the delicate silk, clumping at the top where the model’s chest looked like flowing lava, before trickling down to the edges of the cloth like scattered blossoms.

Against Hyejin’s sun-kissed skin, the dress would’ve shone like a galaxy of suns. 

No doubt with this ethereal dress, she would become the most beautiful bride that graced the world above.

At that thought, Moon Byul gritted her teeth in anger—her jaw was already hurting from the pressure.

“Andrew!” A shock gasp came from Hyejin. “It’s absolutely breathtaking, my love,” Hyejin exclaimed in her husky voice, her tone glittered with the laughter that Byul once adored. 

Byul couldn’t help looking over and she saw the couple interlock in a passionate kiss. She felt the memory of Hyejin’s lips ghosting over her lips.

Right on cue, as if saving her from murdering the two right on the spot, Yongsun appeared beside her—wearing a grave expression as she glimpsed at the couple. 

She leaned down to whisper. “We found one of the men responsible for the ambush. He’s being interrogated at headquarters as we speak.”

A shiver ran through Byul’s skin as a thought crossed her head.

She glimpsed once again at the couple, saw the mischief playing in their gazes, and knew immediately. 

Byul _knew_ who was responsible for the ambush.

She was suddenly glad Yongsun was right there with her. She wouldn’t have been able to stop shooting them otherwise.

Mirren, oblivious to Byul’s realization, turned towards her. A pleased grin on his face upon seeing the wedding dress.

_What a cunning devil._

“Gorgeous! You’ve outdone yourself, my heiress,” he took Byul’s hand and kissed the back of it. “My fiancée absolutely loves it. Don’t you, dear?”

Hyejin clung to Andrew’s side as she nodded. “It’s a masterpiece. Thank you, Ms. Moon.”

Byul clenched her jaw together, a tight smile making its way to her lips. She met Hyejin’s gaze and let a warning shine through her gaze. “Pleasure’s all mine. Although I’m afraid I’d have to leave you early to celebrate amongst yourselves.”

Mirren laughed. “Already? No, have a bit more fun, Moon. Don’t be like your father.”

“Oh, Andrew, but I _am_ off to have some fun,” Byul smirked dangerously, bowing to take her leave with a worried Yongsun by her side.

As soon as she turned her back to the couple, Byul let the mask fall off and in its place was a face of anger that looked absolutely murderous.

&

A tense silence suffocated the air inside the limousine as they drove towards headquarters.

“What do you plan to do with them?” Yongsun suddenly asked, studying her sister.

She had never seen Byul so furious before. It almost frightened her, how eerily quiet the woman was.

Byul had been fidgeting with her fingers since they left the event venue. Her distant look conveyed thousands of emotions. She could’ve been plotting for revenge for all Yongsun knew.

The moment Yongsun neared their table earlier and saw the woman latched onto Andrew’s side, it dawned on her the gravity of the situation.

Yongsun never forgot a face. It was Hwasa. The woman Byul had been smitten with.

“How did you not know?” Byul said slowly.

Yongsun tightened her lips. “Rarely anything gets past me, Byul, you know that.”

“Then she’s a professional. Or Mirren planted her. But why show their hand this early, without even achieving anything ?” Byul wondered.

“Maybe she just wanted to introduce herself.”

It could be as simple as that. Mirren was sick and he loved games. If he truly had fallen in love, Byul would reckon the woman would pretty much be the same. 

Hades found her Persephone. How sickening. 

“They’re responsible for the ambush. It makes sense.”

Yongsun shook her head. “Why would Mirren risk a war between the families?”

He wouldn’t. And Byul didn’t think he’d want to share his toys the way Byul and Hyejin had been so intimate with each other. He was rather possessive with what he owned. Unless… he wasn’t aware that his partner-in-crime had cheated on him with her.

Then, it didn’t make sense, after all.

But it was too much of a coincidence. Their peace was disrupted the moment Hyejin had appeared in the city.

If the woman was acting on her own accord... then it was a different story.

But, Byul barely knew the woman to make any deductions, at least before she revealed who she truly was. A feeling of grief clenched her chest; she didn’t want to admit it but she was mourning Hwasa, the woman who she thought was her silver lining. She didn’t want to remember how she enjoyed her.

But if Hyejin wasn’t merely a pawn of Mirren, then… What did she want?

The vehicle halted in front of an imposing building with concrete walls. 

Byul shelved the thought in her head for the time being.

“Keep an eye on Andrew and that Hyejin. No more letting our guards down. We won’t get fooled by that devil, if he wants a war, he’ll get one,” Byul said coldly. “In the meantime, let’s get our answers.”

&

They strutted into the well-lit basement where dozens of Byul’s men surrounded a man tied to a chair. His face was already dripping with blood but not yet swollen. 

“What have we learned?” Yongsun asked.

The men looked warily at Byul, who quietly and emotionlessly sat at a chair directly in front of the prisoner. They knew immediately that their boss was not in a good mood.

“Nothing. He’s tight-lipped.”

“Then loosen them,” Byul bit out. “Get the machete.”

The men looked knowingly amongst them before one cocked his head towards a utility room a few meters away.

Yongsun felt her throat constrict at the implication. Byul never enjoyed torture, and rarely used it to get what she wanted. 

But Yongsun didn’t forget that she was still a mob leader’s daughter. She always had it in her, someone just had to push the wrong buttons.

Those buttons were pushed tonight, alright.

Yongsun looked like she wanted to stop Byul, but she’d never dare question her authority when others are in their presence.

Byul stood, placed her lips just inches away from the hostage’s ear.

The man was trembling but looked defiant. 

“What’s your name?”

“Why don’t you ask these bastards, huh?” He spat, blood mixed with saliva slathering Byul’s pale cheek. 

Lightning-fast as a response, Byul swung her arm and her fist connected with the man’s cheek. The man gasped in pain before his head snapped to the right when another hit came.

Yongsun flinched at every grunt from the man.

Byul stood, a bit breathless. She wiped the blood from her knuckles onto her suit before discarding it and rolling her sleeves up to her arm. 

“I needed that,” Byul said under her breath.

Her eyes glinted dangerously, but a smirk still played in her lips. She raised her knees and pressed it down the man’s groin. He gasped painfully. 

“You shouldn’t disrespect your host,” Byul tsked. “I’ll ask again and you’re going to answer, what’s your name?”

The man was panting. “Bron.”

“Good. Give our man Bron some water,” Byul lifted her knee. She shared a look with Yongsun and the older woman nodded, scrolling through her tablet almost immediately.

She sat back in\ her chair and watched as Bron eagerly drank like a dehydrated dog from the bottle placed on his lips. 

“Here’s how we’ll go about this, Bron,” Byul said calmly. “You have a choice: you save yourself, or you kill yourself. Either way, your fate rests entirely upon your hands.”

“I’d rather die than give you anything,” Bron spat on the ground.

Byul chuckled. “Such conviction. And for who? For a snake like Mirren?”

Bron’s expression faltered for a split second and that was all Byul needed as an answer. She already knew, she just had to confirm.

“Yes, I already know who you work for, Bron. I know who was responsible for the ambush.”

“I don’t know anything else. Mirren keeps it that way.”

Yongsun leaned over to Byul’s ear to whisper. When she stood straight once again, Byul looked like a winner.

Byul tsked. “Oh don’t worry, for the questions I have, I’m confident you’ll be able to answer them. Your conviction and loyalty to your boss is admirable, I respect it. But to what end, Bron? To take care of your sick wife and three children?”

Bron’s eyes glistened with panic. He understood the threat well.

“You don’t know where they are,” Bron challenged.

“Want to bet?” Byul smirked, she took Yongsun’s tablet and looked at it. “I’ve always loved the colour green. Do your children’s as well? It’s a lovely shade for a house.”

Recognition sparked in the man’s eyes because on the tablet, Byul was looking at a photo of a vibrant green house where a woman and three children were resting in a hammock on the porch.

“How did I know? Well, my secretary is talented at what she does. Mirren also couldn’t be bothered to keep his men’s profile all that secured.” Byul snorted. “You’re all expendable to him, you know.”

Bron scowled.

“As I see it, you will no longer gain anything from protecting Mirren’s secrets. Your life and your family’s are no longer in his hands, but in mine,” Byul smirked, her fingers touching together and resting below her chin. 

“And lest you forget, my friend, Bron. While my father is away, I am the acting City King of the Southeast _and_ a Moon. My family has ruled longer than your boss. If I say your family dies, they will before Mirren could even blink. Do you think he will run to your aid? Like a knight in shining armor?”

Bron gritted his teeth but Byul could see he was breaking. 

“But, for me, you wouldn’t just be expendable. You’d be very _very_ valuable. You have all the information I can possibly need as the head of Mirren’s security.”

Bron’s gaze widened.

If Byul had a weakness, so did Mirren. The man, in his arrogance and self-importance, often took his men’s loyalty for granted. He treated them like commodities he could discard. 

Byul knew that if loyalty could be bought, then it can be outsold.

“Work for me. All you have to do is give me information, nothing else. I’d send you and your family to one of my family’s islands, high security. Andrew wouldn’t be able to find you and I’d pay you generously. No more getting your hands dirty, all I need is for you to sing to me what you know.”

The man’s face resembled that of steel but she could see the offer weighing in his eyes.

Consideration was already a yes.

She just needed the final push. A dire comparison to make her offer sound absolutely heavenly.

Byul leaned back suddenly, surprising the room. “Or, you can stick to your loyalty and you’d be praised for it in your grave, beside your family’s. At least,” she smiled wickedly. “What they’d find left of you.”

Byul feigned wonder. “What would you prefer? Your gruesome head mailed to your family before I torture them, or their heads on the floor in front of you while I torture you?”

Bron paled at the visual imagery.

Byul took the sharp and glinting machete into her hands and played with the tip. 

“Don’t believe me?” Byul challenged, then her eyes hardened. “Cut off his fingers.”

Yongsun clenched her eyes as the warehouse was filled with a gut-wrenching sound of agony.

&

“Don’t you think you went too far?” Yongsun commented, eyeing her sister carefully as they drove back home. 

Byul was emotionless, refusing eye contact as she peered through the limousine’s tinted windows. “It was just one finger, unnie. I knew he’d break eventually. Family men always do.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be like Father.”

“If I were, then his head would already be on a plate on Mirren’s dining table,” Byul’s was cold as ice. “Besides, I got what I wanted. All of it.”

Yongsun continued to stare at her sister. She wasn’t normally this cruel. Something told her that the revelation of Hwasa’s true identity weighed more than she let on.

The woman wasn’t just a quick fling after all, it felt personal to Byul.

Yongsun wouldn’t even dare think that the woman had somehow captured her sister’s heart.

“Are you okay, Byul?”

And her sister hadn’t answered.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally decided to post this multi-chapter fic, something to entertain you amidst troubling times. I'll be updating every weekend and I hope you enjoy this fic. Also please don't forget to drop me some feedback. Comments are loved and makes me a happy author <3


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